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VOL. 59. WHOLE No. 2275.
fsUscjellatt£oti£. Muller & Yearley, HARNESS, TRUNKS and BAGS, 1 343 N. Gay Street, BALTIMORE, Md. • IMBlpMt The only store where you can buy Any Style Harness, from a FINE LIGHT RACING RIG to a SIX-HORSE TEAM SET. Horse Collars, Plow Gears, Fly Nets, Lap Covers, Whips, fcc., ALL AT OUR USUAL LOW PRICES. May 30—ly N T. BAKER, 204 N. EUTAW STREET, Near Lexington Market, BALTIMORE, Md. FANCY * AND STAPLE lilM CHOICE WINES AND LIQUORS. CIGARS A SPECIALTY. Wle solicit a trial order. fAo IJ2S—lv J* ESTABLISHED 1870. MAIER’S PREPARED PAIHTS ARE STRICTLY PURE LEAD AND ZINC PAINTS. Guaranteed Equal to the Best. -MANUFACTURED BY JOHN G. MAIER’S SONS, 153-155 N. GAY STREET, Cor Frederick Street, BALTIMORE, Md. Both Phones. I July 11-ly Geo. W. Kirwan & Co. 13 N. CHARLES STREET, Between Baltimore and Fayette Streets, BALTIMORE. Md., | HABERDASHERS | | SHIRT MAKERS. | SHIRTS TO MEASURE^™.Vi?“ ed special care. All shirts are made on our own premises and our FIT AND FINISH have made ua well known as a SHIRT HOUSE. If you have not tried us, do so by ordering a Sample Shirt. Cartwright & Warners’ English Unshrinkable Underwear has been the best for over a hundred years and will be for a hundred years to come. OF"BOTH PHONES. [July 4—ly Established 1885. “CHESAPEAKE” STITCHED CAPAS BELTING Suitable and specially adapted for Saw Mill and Threshermen’s Use. Transmits more power than any other Belt. Thoroughly Waterproof and Fully Guaranteed. BE" Write for prices, etc., to THE CHESAPEAKE BELTING COMPANY, D. HOCKADAY. Propr. BX3 McKlm Street, Bet. Madison and Eager Streets, Baltimore, Md. Apl. 18—6 m Dr. A. O. McOURDY & CO., TOWSON, Md. Orders received for— ALL SLATE. Peach Bottom Roofing Slate, Slabs for Walks, y| v ss* sissr&2r •§ 3* ■ Cemetery Slabs, * Imposing Stones, Ac., Re. 49-Call on or address as above. C. & P. Phone—Towson 23 R. [July 4—ly ESTABLISHED 1876. BOTH PHONES. RIDER, 1001 GREENMOUNT AVENUE, BALTIMORE. Md.. COMMISSION * MERCHANT Eor the Sale of Hay, Grain and Straw. Orders for Mill Feed, Gluten Feed, Cotton Seed Meal, Oil Cake Meat, Salt, Ac., trill receive prompt attention. [Apl. 4—ly TOWSON NATIONAL BANK. Gash Capital $50,000. Open dally from 9 o’clock A. M. until 3 P. M and 12 o’olock noon on Saturdays. Making loam on flrat-olaaa seourity, and doing a general bank ing business. JOHN CROWTHBR. Jr.. President. W C. CRAUMER. Cashier. [Apl. 6-ly -myroNEY to loan. IN SUMS OF SSOO AND UPWARDB, OF FIRST MORTGAGE. Apply to WILLIAM S. KEBCH. Feb. IT—tf Towson, Md, For “The Union." „ A SOLILOQUY. BY REV. J. A. JONES. Let nothing swerve thee from thy task. Be the temptation e’er so pure ; Only the man who stands the teat Will see his work in time endure. 1 Upon the roadside, many a mile Is strewn with efforts like your own; But efforts failed and lost awhile. Will serve to prop the efforts grown. As leaves and fruit which ne’er mature. Drop to enrich some fruit to be ; I So, much that lost we thought was sure. Died to sustain the stronger tree. That tho you stumble, yea, and fall! You mortify a blatent boast; You trusted what you thought a tree. And found it but a withered post. Beneath each failure rests a seed. Covered and saved from frost secure, Until in spring, perhaps a reed. Or oak will grow about thy door. You may not see it grow or bloom; You may not see it even sprout; But those who occupy thy room Will bless the gods jou lived about. Be true then, noblest work of Ood, Despise not failure nor distress ; For pain encircled marked the road, That couch announced thy first egress. A world in travail brought thee forth,- Not to entwine about the grass; 1 Thy noble form, its nobler worth. Was wrought in secret to express. The image of titantlc force; A person who when seeking form Selected earth, tho e'er so coarse. And from its soil a man was born. Brooklyn. N. Y.. Aug. 30th. 1908. HIM HANNAH’S LOVE-LETTBB. “I wonder if I shall look like Miss Hannah when I attain her advanced age,” said Gertrude Lorrimer, drum ming idly on the window pane with her slender white fingers, and watch ing the drizzling rain. “Of course not, Gertrude. How foolish of you to ask such a question. Miss Hannah never could have been a beauty, even in her palmiest days, and you are acknowledged to be the handsomest girl in Bayville.” There was silence in the room for a few minutes, and then Gertrude ex ciaimed : ‘‘Come here quick, Nettie, Doc tor Astley is coming out to get into his buggy.” Nettie Morris sprang up and stood by her cousin ; and both received a bow from the tall, handsome doctor who had just closed the door of his elegant house behind him and run lightly down the steps to where his buggy stood, the servant standing at the horse’s head. But, as Doctor Astley had one foot on the steps of his carriage, a band fell on his arm, and turning, he saw the small person of Miss Hannah Graves, attired in a rusty rain coat, rubber overshoes, and a plain hat, while on one arm hung her ‘‘charity basket.” ‘‘lt is very fortunate I met you,” said Miss Hannah, in a sweet voice. ‘‘l need you very much. I have been down to the Brewers, and I find that the old lady has rheumatism fever. Mr. Brewer has cut his hand terribly with some glass, aud poor Rachel is nearly ill with watching the poor wiil not "live many days.’ They tiavi not sent for you, because they have no prospect of money to settle the bill; but if you will see what you can do, Doctor Astley, I will be responsible for the bill.” ‘‘l never send bills to people as poor as the Brewers, Miss Graves,” said Dr. Astley, ‘‘and I will go to see them at once.” ‘‘Thank you,” said Miss Hannah, simply. And she moved on, bowing slightly to the doctor as he sprang into his carriage and took the reins. “Did you ever see such imperti nence before!” exclaimed Gertrude. ‘‘The idea of stopping him in that manner!” “Gertie,” said Nettie, “it is my belief that she is trying to attract him. Be careful, dear ; if Miss Han nah’s your rival, she can’t fail to win.” And both the cousins laughed mer rily. Well might Gertrude Lorrimer be called a beauty, and it was no won der that she was called the belle of the town. Tall, with a perfect figure, hair of blue-black, eyes like midnight, a clear, dark complexion and regular features, she was a beauty, and she knew it. Deft an orphan at eighteen years of age, Gertrude had been only too glad to accept the offer of her aunt, Mrs, Morris, to take her into her own home and family, where she could share the pleasures of her cousin Nettie. She was anxious to marry well, and therefore Doctor Astley was look ed upon by her with favor. He was young, handsome, wealthy, and stood high in his profession, and Gertrude could not ask for more. Hannah Graves was only thirty four years of age, though Gertrude and Nettie gave her credit for ten years more, and she was very plain ’ indeed in appearance, and never troubled herself much about the fash " ions. Miss Hannah had been very pretty in her day, but the years had flown by, taking her youth, bloom and freshness with them; and now the dear mother and poor brother, for whom she had sacrificed a woman’s , dream of home, were laid beneath the churchyard sod, and only Hetty, the maid of all work, who had been with her through all these years of sacri fice to duty, remained with her in the little white cottage in Bayville. ***** r The windows of the breakfast room were wide open, the fire not made, the table destitute of dishes or repast, and it was nearly half-past eight o’clock. Doctor Astley was standing on the hearthrug, with a decided frown on his handsome face, f “Mrs. Beck has imposed on me long enough,” he thought. “I order breakfast at eight o’clock and get it a at nine. My fire is never built in the e study, and everyone of my shirts need * overhauling. There’s Singleton, he stood housekeeper and boarding as long as he was able, and then mar ried pretty Florrie Truedale. Now he has a pleasant, comfortable home, and a congenial companion is always t- at hand, and I worry on with Mrs. Beck. I have a mind to propose tc Miss Lorrimer. I wonder if she could make me happy. She seems like s N pleasant, nice girl; and she is young and handsome enough to grace tb< home of any man. lam thirty-thre< years old, and it is time I was settled too, to-night—no, to-night I must go to Singleton’s—but tomorrow night I shall call on the fair Gertrude and have my fate decided. If I am so fortunate as to win her, I can say adieu to Mother Beck, and welcome comfort, ease, happiness —” * * * * Meanwhile Nettie Morris and Ger trude Lorrimer were discussing, in the privacy of their parlor, a plan which seemed to afford them an op portunity to revenge the slight Miss Hannah had put upon them at a charity fair. “I would give anything to see her read it,” said Nettie. “I declare ! I can’t wait with any patience for to morrow to come. “I think I deserve some credit for imitating his handwriting so well,” said Gertrude. “I am sure she will fully believe it is a genuine love letter. How I would like to see her answer!” “I rather think Miss Hannah will feel very much mortified when she finds out that she has accepted the doctor’s bogus offer,” said Nettie. “You think there is nc doubt of her accepting, Gertie?” “Not the least,” replied Gertrude, in a tone of confidence. “You see, Nettie, he is a very eligible person, and I rather think Miss Hannah would not refuse a man whom I would accept.” “Suppose we go upstairs and read the letter again,” suggested Nettie; “and then you can copy it, and I’ll find Johnny Brewer to-night and make him take it for us.” That night as Doctor Astley was returning home after spending the evening at Singleton’s, a violent gust of wind blew into his face a sheet of paper. The doctor was deep in thought about his contemplated offer to Gertrude Lorrimer the next even ing, and caught the paper mechani cally in his hand and abstractedly thrust it into his pocket, where it stayed, completely forgotten by the dreaming doctor. He passed the white cottage of Miss Hannah, and was surprised to see a light still in the window of the cosy parlor. The curtain was drawn aside, and he stopped a momeut, attracted by the comfortable aspect of the whole room. The fire was burning cheerily, the cat lay on the rug, and Miss Han nah sat in a cosy armchair, an open letter on her lap, and her hands cross ed idly. The letter which he had seen lying on the lap of the spinster ran as follows: “My Dear Miss Hannah: —Dur- ing the three weeks we have seen more of each other than ever before, and I have learned to love you de votedly. Dare I hope that I may •ud loveliness ot persdb iTifve snncu this heart, which has never before succumbed to woman ; and my only fear is that you will not think my love worthy your acceptance. If you can give me a favorable answer, write it and bring it to my door tomorrow. Susan will see that it is given to me at night, for I shall be away all day. If your answer is unfavorable, if you feel that I am not worthy the blessed boon of your pure young love, send J me no reply. Your silence will be l sufficient to tell me that my hopes i are blasted and my heart blighted evermore. Yours devotedly, Leonard B. Astlky.” This was the letter over which Miss Hannah was dreaming in the firelight. She was astonished at re ceiving her letter. A rapping on her cottage door caused her to open it to find the letter tied to the knob, but no one in sight. Johnny Brewer had done his errand well. Miss Hannah had seen the handwriting of the doc tor very frequently, and Gertrude’s clever imitation would almost have deceived the doctor himself. When Miss Hannah read the joint production of the girls, the tears came into her soft blue eyes. She never doubted the genuineness of her love-letter. As she read what it said of her grace and loveliness, a sigh escaped her lips. He is so noble, rich and handsome,and I have thought he loved Gertrude Lorrimer and pit ied him for she will never make any man happy. And to think that, after all, I am his choice. I never dreamed that such happiness could come to me. So Gertrude Lorrimer was right. The letter of acceptance was written before the little woman slept that night, and the next day the two girls, who were eagerly watching, saw her give the precious missive into Susan’s care. How they laughed and re joiced as they saw her move slowly away, in deep thought—their little old maid whom they had so cruelly deceived. * * * * When Doctor Astley returned home at eight o’clock that evening he found Miss Hannah’s letter on his study table. He read it through with dis may and astonishment. “Poor little creature !” he exclaim ed, “who could have been capable of so cruelly deceiving her ? I did not think she had an enemy, her life is so blameless and noble. What shall I tell her? How shall I explain mat ters to her?” He read the letter over again, and ; was impressed by the modesty and 1 gentleness which pervaded it. Walking up and down the room, : perplexed at what had occurred, and r vexed at being in such a false posi t tion, Doctor Astley suddenly thought : of Gertrude. This was the night he 1 had set for calling on her and de i ciding his fate. He little doubted her s answer would be a favorable one, and - yet here he stood as good as engaged v to poor little Miss Hannah of Rose , Cottage. s He drew his handkerchief from his i. pocket, and as he did so, a piece of o crumpled paper fell to the floor, d Thinking it might be of importance, a he picked it up and opened it. As g he read it, his face grew very sad, e and his lips were sternly compressed. For an instant he could not remember TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, AUGUST 15. 1908. where or how it had come into his possession and then he recollected the sudden gust of wind that had hurled it into his face the night before. Was it fate, I wonder, which made the wind blow from the open window of Gertrude’s bedroom this scribbled sheet and flung it into the doctor’s face? For on the paper was a rough draft of the love-letter Miss Hannah had received, and on the reverse side, scribbled with many quirls and flour ishes, the names of the two young girls who had planned to mortify the little old maid. “And to think that but for this crumpled piece of paper, and what it contains, I might have married that girl !” mused the doctor. “The whole plot is clear to me now, and in stead of loving Gertrude Lorrimer, I thoroughly hate her. How could she stoop to this !” Then he threw himself into an easy chair and abandoned himself to thought. The result was that he rose to his feet half an hour later with a smile on his face, donned his over coat and hat, and left the house, going in the direction of Miss Han nah’s cottage. “Poor little thing!” the doctor thought, as he saw the light in Miss Hannah’s parlor window. “She is expectiug me, of course. Well, her tender, generous heart shall not suffer through me, and I shall do all I can to make her happy.” J j£m Ik ME. ROBERT GARRETT, OF BALTIMORE COUNTY, Republican Nominee for Member of the House of Representatives from the Second Congressional District of Maryland. Miss Hannah opened the door for him, and then shrank timidly back, i but he put both his strong arms < around her and drew her to his breast. “My arms are your shield, and my ( breast is your resting-place forever more, dear Hannah,” he murmured. “Oh, Leonard !” she replied, “if I can only make you happy! But I ] am so old and faded —” i “You are mine now, and I won’t allow my property to be depreciated, ” < was the doctor’s answer. < The surprise and chagrin of Ger trude and Nettie can well be imagin ed, but they had only themselves to thank for the strange result of their heartless, unmaidenly wicked hoax, that might have resulted in driving so sensitive a soul to lasting shame, or even to death itself. They never learned from Doctor Astley or his wife that it was sur mised who had written Miss Han nah’s love-letter, for the doctor never spoke to either of the girls again, but passed them with ouly a cold and formal bow, while his wife never knew, to the day of her death, that her love-lett.er had not been a genu ine one. That cruel knowledge was kept from her by her devoted hus band. For Doctor Astley had learn ed to love his wife most tenderly and truly, and under his care and kind ness she grew rosy and bright again as in former days. She no longer de nies herself nourishing food and beau tiful clothes, for she was surrounded by peace and plenty. THE CAUTIOUS REPORTER. “Young man,” said the editor to the new reporter, “you lack caution. You must learn never to state a thing as a fact until it has been proved a fact. You are apt to get us into libel suits. Do not say ‘the cashier stole the funds ;’ say ‘the cashier who is alleged to have stolen the funds.’ That’s all. Oh, get something about that First Ward social tonight.” The next day, half way down the social column, the editor saw the fol lowing cautious paragraph : “It is rumored that a card party was given last evening to a number of reputed ladies of the First Ward. Mrs. Smith, gossip says, was the hos tess, and the festivities are reported to have continued until 11.30 in the evening. The alleged hostess is be lieved to be the wife of John Smith, the so-called high-priced grocer.’ ” The Lady —“ Look here ; you said that if I’d give you your dinner you’d mow the lawn for me.” The Hobo —“I’d like to do it, ma’am, but I gotter teach yer a les son. Never trust th’ word of a total i stranger.” “Have you,” asked the judge of a recently convicted man, “anything ■ to offer the court before sentence is passed?” “No, your honor,” re plied the prisoner ; “my lawyer took . my last farthing.” WIT IN THE COURT BOOH. Overshrewd lawyers often furnish their adversaries with weapons. “Did you see this tree that has been mentioned, by the roadside?” an ad vocate inquired. “Yes, sir, I saw it very plainly.” “It was conspicuous, then.” The witness seemed puzzled by the new word. He repeated his former assertion. “What is the difference,” sneered the lawyer, “between plain and con spicuous?” But he was hoist with his own pe tard. The witness innocently an swered : “I can see you plainly, sir, among the other lawyers, though you are not a bit conspicuous.” In another instance a blow directed against the character of a witness for cibly recoiled. < “You were in the company of these people?” he was asked. “Of two friends, sir.” “Friends! Two thieves, I suppose you mean.” “That may be,” was the dry re tort ; “they are both lawyers.” The blow that destroys the effect of an adverse examination is occasionally more the result of an accident than of conscious effort. In a trial, not long ago, a very simple witness was in the box, and after going through his or deal was ready to retire. One ques tion remained. “Now, Mr. , has not an attempt been made to induce you to tell the court a different story?” “A different story to what I have told, sir?” “Yes ; is it not so ?” “Yes, sir.” “Upon your oath, I demand to know who the persons are who have attempted this.” “Well, sir, you’ve tried as hard as any of ’em,” was the unexpected an swer. It ended the examination. Jim Jackson was brought before a western judge charged with chicken stealing. After the evidence was all in, the justice, with a perplexed look, said: “But Ido not understand, Jackson, how it was possible for you to steal those chickens when they were roost ing right under the owner’s window and there were two vicious dogs in the yard.” “Hit wouldn’t do yer a bit o’ good, Jedge, for me to splain how I kotched dem chickens, fer yo couldn’t do hit yerself ef yer tried it fohty times, an’ yer might get yer hide full er lead. De bes’ way fer yer to do, Jedge, is jest ter buy yo’ chickens in de mar ket, same es odder folks does, and when yer wants ter commit any ras cality do hit on de bench, whar yo’ is at home.” —Scrap Book. MODERN IMPLEMENTS. The scarcity of help on farms may ultimately drive landowners to great er economy and to a more general use of devicesand conveniences which lighten the work. It is surprising how many aim to get along by mus cle power alone, never trying any other method, which might save half UJV.UJUU, * ~ their work. An old farmer says that his neigh bors called him lazy when he first brought a hay loader on his farm, and when he rigged up a cable and used a trip hay fork to unload his hay he had a crowd of neighbors around him, "just to see how it worked." The economical and up to date farmer counts all these labor savers just that much of his equipment, and it is only by using them that he is enabled to meet present conditions. The walking stirring plow and walk ing cultivators are back numbers. Now the sulky or gang plow is used, and three big, lusty horses will turn over three or four acres a day. A manufacturer has got out a ro tary harrow, which is attached to the plow, and the land is turned and har rowed at one operation. If any man is justified in venturing money it is the farmer when he invests it in up to date tools and implements for more rapid and better work on the farm. There is no failure, save failure in cleaving to the purposes which we know to be the best. There is a ladder standing for the man who is down. A BASH JUDGMENT. \x I am a lonely fellow, with nothing . to do but roam about the streets and a criticise my neighbors. By neighbors - I mean any and all of those persons whom I may meet in a day’s walk. ’ As to real neighbors, no doubt I have some; but as lam by nature retiring, ; and by force of circumstance a new r comer in N., I know very little about them. I The other morning I started out for my usual walk. Just ahead of me clattered a young lady very richly • and tastefully attired. I say “clat tered,” for I do not know how better to describe the noise she made with her high heels on the resounding i pavement. She carried her head high, and on top of it was perched an expensive affair—l don’t know what to call it decorated with feathers. I eairi tn mvcplf • “Tf that rrMlnrs arrays herself so expensively in the morning, when from the quickness of her movements, she is going out pro bably for a few moments on some ne cessary errand, how will she be dress ed for the afternoon promenade, the evening dinner, the opera, the thea ter, or some grand ball ? Of what use is she in the world, trotting along on her high heels, with her head in the air, and her thoughts on the new gown she is going to have fitted at the dressmaker’s?” While thus reflecting, I felt my arm jostled rudely, and turned to re monstrate. “Here! What do you mean ?” I asked testily; but the next instant I regretted my tone, for I saw the man was blind. “I beg your pardon, my friend !” said I. “Not at all, sir,” was the rejoinder. “I am out of my own neighborhood and not familiar with the streets here.” We were standing on a corner ; the blind man prodding the pavement with his stick, and turning his sight less eyes about uneasily, as though uncertain what to do. The young lady had paused also to open her parasol, a pretty thing, but somewhat refractory. She turned at the old man’s speech, regarding him with a quick glance from bright blue eyes. “Curiosity !” I thought. “All women are dowered with it, from the highest to the lowest.” She passed on, and I stood for a moment irresolute, wondering wheth er it might not be a kindness, nay — almost duty—to ask the afflicted man where he lived and set him on his way. But I resisted the impulse ; I was not responsible for him ; he should have known better than to have vetured alone mto a strange neighborhood ; those who had charge of him should not have permitted it. Besides, thefe my way. In front of me the young woman had just reached the opposite curb. Suddenly she turned about, glanced at the corner where the blind man was still stranded, and retraced her steps. “Probably she has forgot ten some gewgaw or other,” thought I, and continued on my way. But the blind man was on my conscience ; and after I had gone a few steps far ther, I turned once more to see what had become of him. To my surprise, the young woman was talking to him. Then they came toward me, she with a neatly-gloved hand on his arm. He could not see me, she did not ob serve me. When they had passed I followed somewhat closely ; for I be gan to feel interested. Could there possibly be any connection between that shabby old man and the hand somely attired young lady, habitue of a world to him evidently unknown ? Hardly; and yet, I admit that, though not a woman, I was quite curious, and rather pleased to learn that her com panion was somewhat deaf as well as blind. Thereby I was enabled to hear their conversation without attracting their observation. “You tell me you are lost?” she was saying in a remarkably sweet voice. “Where do you live sir?” “In X street, miss.” “That is rather distant,” she ob served, after reflection. “How do you come to be so far out of your way?” “I do not know. I was to meet my daughter. She had gone to take back some sewing—she is a seam stress —and I missed her. I had come out for a walk the day is so fine.” “Very well. I will take you home.” “It will not inconvenience you miss?” “Not at all. I had planned to do • some shopping, but it does not mat ter.” i “You are very kind, miss.” r “Not at all; it is a pleasure. You ■ live with your daughter?” r “Yes ; she is a widow. There are f two children. I make fruit baskets and they help. She is an excellent seamstress and has plenty of work." "That is good. And you get on well?" "Very well." "And the children? Do they go to school?" "Oh, regularly!” "I should like to know them. It is a blessing for you to be surrounded with children ; you have more reasons to be thankful than many who are not blind.” "Oh, yes, miss! You are right. There is often real happiness for the blind." I fell back, fearing to be detected in my espionage. I heard no more, but could see that the talk went pleas antly on. At last they paused in front of a large building. A woman and two little boys were standing in the doorway. "Here he is!" they cried, as the pair approached. I lingered on the sidewalk, pre tending to pull the point of my cane from the crack between two stones. There were cheerful words and some laughter and then the young, fashion ably dressed good Samaritan hurried away, glancing at her watch as she went. She did not cast her eyes to r ward me, but I said in an undertone : j “God bless her, and God forgive my , rash judgment of her 1” She was ! in a hurry, and she went out of her way—she whom, in the uncharitable , ness of my heart, I had called a frivo lous creature without sense or feeling —to conduct a poor, strayed blind man to his home; to console him with sweet, kind words; to fill his thoughts with hope and contentment ; while I who flatter myself on being a philosopher, not to say a Christian, without anything in the world to do but amuse myself, on whom the time often hangs heavily, nad not the hu man sympathy, the generosity of soul to offer the service which I could so readily have performed. I had no desire to walk any longer that morning; my life and its empti ness looked very poor to me. I re- VCU ttVVCI agalu kV> v# j ances, and went slowly homeward to ponder on the parable of the mote and the beam. — A. B. C., in Ave Maria. MAN’S PASSION FOB POCKETS. The great fundamental difference between the modern woman and the modern man is this: that, whereas the raiment of the modern woman has no pockets at all, the raiment of the modern man has nothing else. Indeed, a man may be defined as an animal with a passion for pockets. If you were asked to say off hand how many pockets you possess at a given moment you would be stumped. It would be necessary to make out an inventory. In the first place, there are at least five in your over coat. There are at least five more in in your lounge jacket, four in your waistcoat, and four in your trousers. You have, therefore, at least eighteen pockets. Now, it is absurd to say that any man needs eighteen pockets. Why, it is almost a set of pigeon holes! They ought to be numbered or let tered. Often a man loses his railway ticket and after paying excess fare he finds it hidden in one of his dozen and a half pockets. There are few of us who do not suffer from accumulations of old letters, paid and unpaid bills, ’bus and tram tickets, theatre vouch ers and miscellaneous odds and ends. We change our flotsam and jetsam from one suit of clothes to another, for we are not happy without unne cessary fragments of paper. As a rule, a smoker carries several boxes of matches in his pockets. It is easier to put a penny in a slot at a railway station and extract a new box than to hunt through layers of pockets for an old one. I once knew a man who carried an amazing assortment of useless things in his pockets. He always had a pencil and a pair of compasses. In his pocket book he carried stamps, sticking plaster, telegraph forms and pins. Another man I know always carries half a dozen silver cigar cases shaped like torpedoes, with one cigar in each. Some men have a mania for carry ing enormous bunches of keys. They do not use more than two of them every day but they are not happy un less they have a key for everything they have ever owned. When they lose their keys it is a tragedy. I sometimes wonder why the chan cellor of the exchequer does not im pose a pocket-tax. It would be much more profitable than the ancient win dow-tax, for men could live without windows, but they could not possibly exist without pockets. A pocketless man would be miser able. Try to imagine yourselves in clothes without pockets. The imagi nation boggles at the thought. A coat without pockets would be a monstrosity, before which a man would reccil in terror. I suspect that the tailor is the first cause of pocketitis. He it is who forces us to submit to the plague of pockets. I appeal to my fellow men to revolt against this sartorial tyranny. Let us establish a pocket limit. Fourteen pockets ought to be enough for any sane man. —-James Douglas in M. A. P. FOLK MILLEB’B STOBY. Mr. Polk Miller, of Richmond, blew into the editorial office of the Almanack like a fresh breeze from the South a few days ago, and was promptly asked, of course, for the la- test darky story in Virginia. He said it was about substituting a wild tur key for a tame turkey. One of his friends bought a turkey from old Un cle Ephraim, and asked him, in mak ing the purchase, if it was a tame turkey. "Oh, yais, sir, it’s a tame tu’key ol right." "Now, Ephraim, are you sure it’s a tame turkey?" "Oh, yais, sir; a tame tu’key ol right. ’ ’ He consequently bought the turkey, and a day or two later when eating it he came across several shot. Eater on when he met old Ephriam on the street he said : "Well Ephriam you told me that was a tame turkey, but I found some shot in it, when I was eating it." "Oh, dat was a tame tu’key ol right,” was Uucle Ephriam’s reiterated rejoinder, "but de fac’ is, boss, I’se gwine to tell yer in confidence dat ere shot was in tended for me.” — Advertiser's Alma nack. Lawyer —The defendant in this case is a lazy, worthless fellow, isn’t he? Witness—Well, sir, I don’t want to do the man anyinjustice. I wonM go so far as to say he’s lazy, but if it required any voluntary work on his part to digest his victuals he would have died of lack of nourishment i years ago. "I want to bet sl,oooon Bryan," announced the man who was “next.’ "Make it £2,000 and I’ll go you,’ declared the man next to "next." "Both them gents will want t< stand me off fer a io cent shave unti pay day,” confided the barber to th< customer in the chair. ESTABLISHED 1850. HE WAB 80 DIFFERENT. ' The young man with the square and 5 determined jaw had finished what he * had wanted to say and it had been no small speech. The pretty girl whose mouth curled up distractingly at the r corners and whose brown eyes could ! look serious as well as alluring, did not glance toward him. She gazed persistently out through the veranda ’ vines. “It isn’t such a simple affair as you think,’’she said. “I —I’ve been no ticing people—and men are lots differ ent after they’re married. Now, just the other day I heard the man next door talking to his wife. It was after dinner, and they were on their porch, and I couldn’t help hearing. He’s a nice looking man himself and they aren’t poor. “Well, he said: ‘Good heavens, Siy I a t s Ifie v attotel n a|BF„ n . di “ 1 S looks silly in a woman of 40 to waste time on having her hands scraped and frescoed. You can’t make them young and you can keep them clean yourself, and that’s all that’s necessary. It’s just your vanity. “Now, last week I saw the young man whom my cousin Nell’s going to marry take her hand in his and rave over her lovely pink nails. He called them pearls, I believe, and said her beautiful hands were one of her great est attractions. What do you think of that?” “Well,” said the young man with the square jaw, "I don’t see that it proves anything. They were two en tirely different men, so it wasn’t a before-and-after example at all. It just depends on the man himself, and I’m not like that first man—” “How can I tell?” demanded the young woman, mutinously. “There’s no way of being sure except to wait fifteen years and see how you turn out.” “Then before a man marries a girl, ’’ she went on, “he won’t let her carry so much as a spool of thread. He loads himself down with her coat and umbrella and shopping parcels if he meets her going home, and is tickled to death because he has a chance to do it. If she remonstrates and wants to carry some of the things herself he regards her in shocked surprise. Does she suppose for an instant that he is going to let her weary herself carting stuff around when he is there? Doesn’t she realize what a pleasure it is for him to do things for her—and doesn’t she want him to put her handbag in his pocket? No, he doesn’t mind if it does make the pocket sag ! “Well, look at the companion pic ture. Did you notice the Smiths com ing from the suburban train a few minutes ago? Just as they got in front of this house Mr. Smith decided pasteboard box IronTfUe tSllof 'S'luhltlfc hand and three small parcels in the other, but he said : ‘Mary, I believe I’ll let you take my overcoat home with you, because it’s too warm to wear it, and here’s my umbrella, too.’ And she said : ‘All right, dear,’ in a patient way, and submitted without a murmur to being loaded down like a pack horse. He never even apolo gized, and I suppose he thinks he loves his wife!” “What would you have done if you had been Mrs. Smith ?” inquired the young man with the square jaw. The girl lifted her chin in a deter mined way. "I’d dropped his old overcoat on the sidewalk and piled my own bundles on top of it and then walked on,” she said. “Yes, I believe you would,” ad mitted the young man. “Say, you’re picking out exceptional cases instead of taking the decent general run of married people!” “No, I’m not!” insisted the young woman. “When a man’s engaged he’s worried if the girl sighs. He’s sure he’s said something to hurt her feelings. He wants to be told what it is. If she sits five minutes without speaking he asks if she’s blue, or what’s the trouble, or if she doesn’t love him any more. He isn’t happy unless he thinks he knows her every thought. She must have no life apart from his. They must think and breathe in unison. They are twin souls. And afterward —well, did you ever see a woman trying to converse with her husband after dinner when he Insisted on reading the evening paper? Did you?” “I don’t believe so,” confessed the young man, guiltily. The young woman shook her head. 1 “It’s a comic paper joke,” she said, “when it really should be considered a tragedy. He is only interested in : the news and doesn’t care in the least : about Aunt Sally ’ s dreadful headache or John’s failure in business, or the new gown she is having made or wants [ to have made. He doesn’t care to : talk about any of these things. He t just wants to be let alone and if she . persists in her timid efforts to make 1 him talk he is liable either to explode 1 in wrath or jam on his hat and go out. , You know it’s so.” [ The young man looked decidedly 1 gloomy.' “You seem to have strong 2 views on the subject,” he said. “I t don’t suppose there’s any hope for r me, then. I suppose you’re trying to - let me down by degrees instead of - saying no outright!” The young woman looked at him a bit shyly. Then she faced him. s “N-n-no, I’m not,” she murmured, t “I really think these things are so in most cases, but you see—you are so t different from other men. I think t they won’t apply to you !” t “I should say not!” saidtheyoung s man, brightening up.— Chicago News. d ■ -+ 5 Parson Flatfoot— Mawnin’ Sis tah Snowball. How am Brudder Snowball dis mawnin’ ? ’ Sister Snowball—He am pow’ful ” bad dis mawnin’, parson. Dedoctah ” done say he have a ’lignant ulster on his back, an’ Ah’s’fraid he am gwine 0 ter be a “firm’d infidel.” il • ie Much danger makes great hearts most resolute.