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VOL. 00. WHOLE No. 2298.
THE COMMERCIAL BANK OF MARYLAND BELVEDERE AVENUE, Nni Reisterstowa Road, Arlington, Md. CAPITAL STOCK, $25,000. ■ 0 ——* NO W OFEHST FOE BUSINESS. ~a \ Don a general Banking Bnalneas In all that la consistent with safe and careful man agement. The loeatlon of onr Bank makes It the most convenient place for a large number of residents of Baltimore county to transact their financial business. During the short time onr Bank has been open for bnsiness the.amoont of deposits has reached a success far In excess of onr expectations. We have a SAVINGS DEPARTMENT and pay Interest on money deposited there. Call and see ns and we will explain why it will be to your advantage to open an account with ns. Prompt attention given to all collection business entrusted to us. ■B —: OFFICERS: CHAS. T. COCKET, Jr., JOHN K. CULVER, Ist Vice-President. CHARLES E. SMITH, President. HOWARD E. JACKSON, *d Vice-President. Cashier. CHARLES T. COCKSY, Jr., HOWARD E. JACKSON, ROBERT H.McMANNS, ARTHUR P. NICHOLSON, J. B. WAILKS, MAX ROSEN, JOHN K. CULVER, GEORGE W. ALT, H. D. HAMMOND, J. PRANK SHIPLEY, H. D. EASTMAN. Dec - I PROSPERITY^!j \ > TRUE PROSPERITY is not attained by spending all the money one earns, < , < | bnt by saving as much of it as possible. i J i ' The men who DO things today are not those who spent their money as fast < > 1 i as they got it, bnt those who saved from time to time, until they had sufficient < | \ ' means with which to go ahead and accomplish some purpose. J > | > Are YOU saving today what you do not need? J > ! ' We can help you save, and will add each year something to yonr savings, < , i | according to the amounts you have had on deposit with us in our Savings De- ( J J > partment during the year. * > ' Any boy, girl, man or woman can begin now to put aside a part, if not all, < | ! ’ of his or her Income, and when the opportunity arrives be prepared to Invest J ► * | same in a good paying proposition. ( | J ' This is real prosperity. J > i ’ Join the prosperous band today by opening an account with us NOW. , > * ! Interest paid on savings accounts. < | i| The Towson National Bank,!; 3; towson, Md. :J JOHN CROWTHER, DUANE H. RICE, W. C. CRAUMER, 3; 3; President. Vice-President. Cashier. 3; < > ~ Second National Bank TOWSON, MS.- LET TJS SERVE YOU. Financial success in life is greatly aided by good business associations. One of the first requisites Is a deposit account with a strong, live, up-to-date bank. This gives yon standing In yonr community and will be found a great convenience. Some day yon may need jnst snob assistance as yonr bank can render. If yon are a depositor with the Second National Bank of Towson you can rest as sured of friendly consideration at all times. For onr Directors and Officials are progressive, Influential business men of our com munity, closely In touch with all onr business Interests, and able and willing to afford their patrons every accommodation possible with safe hanking. We solicit vour hanking bnsiness. Let ns serve you. -iOPPICBBSi Thomas W. Offutt, Elmer J. Cook, l vice-presidents. Thos. J. Meads, President. Harrison rider, > Cashier. THOMAB W. OFFUTT. W. BERNARD DUKE, HENRY C. LONQNECKER, Elmer J, cook, Wm. a. lee, Z. Howard isaao, Harrison Rider, Chas. H. Knox, Noah E. Offutt, JOHN I. YELLOTT, W. GILL SMITH, JOHN V. SLADE. Jan. 26—ly. Jfbgsixiattß vm£i §ntistß. T\R A. O. McCURDI, BURGEON DENTIST, TOWSON, Md. ■x-President State Board Dental Examiners. CROWNS, BRIDGES AND PORCELAIN FILLINGS. Orrioi Hoorns \ ®&SP^IL* M ‘ Offloe Call—C. AP. ’Phone, Towson 192 R. Dec. 6—17 H. 8. JAKRETT, Office with bis father (Dr. J. H. Jarrett), Wash ington Avenue, near Allegany Avenue, TOWSON, Md. Special attention to catarrh of nose and throat. Office Hours—B to 10 a. m.; 6toßp. m. O. A P. Phone-Towson 217. rOct.lotJunel ’PVB. B. C. MASSENBURG, I 9 —orncx— AT DBDG STORE OF MABBBNBUBO A SON, Odd Pillows' Hall, Towson, Md C. A P. Phone, Towson 812. Resldenoe—W. Pennsylvania Avenue, near Postofflce. Night bell and C. A P. Phone, Towson 161. Mch.l6—lv J. BOTSTON GREEN, NORTH BALTIMORE AVENUE. Nmab Tkiwitt Church, TOWSON. Md Offloe Hours—B to 10 A. M., and Stoß P. M. C. A P. Telephone. July 18—ly BARGAINS BARGAINS BARGAINS REMOVAL SALE! Fornitue Jarpets, &c Will vacate my present store January Ist, 1908. Before removing I will Sell ly Entire Stock Below Cost. Furniture, Carpets, Stoves, Oilcloth, Mattings and Qeneral House Furnishings. If You Want Bargains Call and See Me W. P. COLLINS, 837 Creenmount Ave., Baltimore. gWGoods Delivered. [Dec. 28—fit gOSLKI A DOI.LENBERG, Surveyors & Civil Engineers, Office— PlPEß BUILDING, TOWSON, MD. 4VC. A P. Phone—Towson, 78 F. P. D. DOLLENBERG, Jr., County Surveyor. FebJt-ly PIANOS tuned In Any Part of the County. Address, JOSEPH A. NEUMAYER, Baspeburg, R. F. D., Md. A P. Tel.—Hamilton t-x. [Sept. 28-ly JBCiscellaneons. Muller & Yearley, HARNESS, TRUES aid BARS, 343 N. Gay Street, BALTIMORE. Md. Blankets AND Robes. In addition to Regular Line we offer BIG LINE OF MILL SAMPLES AT BARGAIN PRICES. Blankets From SI.OO up. Lap Robes “ $2.00 “ avlt will pay you to see them. Special induce ments to early buyers. PUFF GOOD WHIP WITH EACH FUFF r Ruu BLANKET. * MA OcLIOtKaySO WM. J. BIDDISON, FIRE INSURANCE ACENT Fire, Tornado and Windstorm Poli cies Jasued. NO ASSESSMBNT. —REPRESENTING— HOME FIRE INSURANCE CO. OF N. Y., Assets $20,000,000.00: GIRARD FIRE A MARINE INSURANCE CO. OF PHILA., Assets $2,141,283.79. Office—Belalr Boad and Maple Avenue. Baspeburg P. 0., Baltimore County, Md. C. A P. and Maryland Phones. |WA share of patronage will be appreciated. Jan. 2—ly Flowers, Flails, k FOR WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS, AT REASONABLE BATES. Special Attention Given to Ornamental Gardening. JOHN L. WAGNER, Florist, W. JOPPA BOAD, TOWSON, Md. C. A P. Phone—Towson 8-F. [Nov. 21—ly JUDOS SOT. Judge not, the workings of bis brain And of bis heart thou canst not see; What looks to thv dim eyes a stain In God’s pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-won field Where tbou wouldst only faint and yield. The look, the air, that frets tby sight. May be a token that below The soul has closed in deadly fight With some infernal fiery foe. Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace. And cast thee shuddering on thy face. The fall thou darest to despise— Maybe the angel’s slackening hand Has suffered it, that he may rise And take a firmer, surer stand; Or, trusting less to earthly things, I May henceforth learn to use bis wings. And Judge none lost; but wait and see, With hopeful pity, not distain; The depth of the abyss may be The measure of the height of pain And love and glory that may raise This soul to God in after days! —Adelaide Ann Proctor. A GIBL’S 8U BEEN DEB. They had quarreled again. They were always quarreling, but this last affair was a battle royal. iShe declared that he was arrogant, arbitrary, abusive and abominable. And she looked so adorably imperti nent when she said these appalling things that he felt like shaking her soundly and kissing her full on her red rebellious mouth. But he didn’t. He only took up his bat, and with the laziest air and most mocking smile said he had the extreme honor of wishing her good afternoon. Then he took himself to his club and ordered brandy and soda and sat over it an hour looking haughty and cold and bored, while inwardly he was raging furiously. She waited until the door shut be hind him, and then announced to the furniture that she would teach him a lesson that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Then she stamped a small foot, and shook a small fist at his pic ture on the mantelpiece. Next she went upstairs and made a most careful toilet, with deliberate intent to go forth and walk where she would be sure to meet the same one over whom they had quarreled. Then she threw herself, frills, laces, feathers and all on her bed, and cried until her dear little eyes were very red indeed. And these imbeciles were neither married, affianced, nor yet “lovers.” They were simply very good friends. They did not believe in love—that nonsense ! As if one of taste and judgmeut and worldly knowledge does in these days. “Why, love has gone out of date,” she was wont to say with that charm ing cynical air she was pleased to affect at times. “You and I are chums, bon comrades, good fellows together. Love ? Rubbish ! He, being a cunning dog,apparently consented to this theory. He knew that the new woman blight had struck her, and that he must give her time to get over it. And she had fully recovered he hoped for great events which were to include a wed ding, a home and a happy domestic life. She delighted in her role of “bache lor girl.” She wore stand-up collars and cutaway coats, and thrust her hands in the pockets of her tweed walking gowns with a gentlemanly air which, being so absolutely at vari ance with her personality, was simply ludicrous. For if ever there was a soft, dainty, lovable bit of femininity' it was this girl who turned up her saucy nose at love, and demanded scope for herself, scope, too, with an unusually large S. “Marriage? What is marriage?” she would say. “Marriage is a mis take. A woman who is married is a slave to the whims, caprices and inso lence of her master. Women have borne this burden of matrimony long enough. Let them now develop themselves; let them grow and ex pand and show to the world the heights to which they may attain.” And sc she rode a bicycle, and was secretary of a ladies’ debating society and believed herself a progressive woman indeed. All this was very hard for him to bear. There were times when he gnashed his teeth in the impotence of despair, and longed to pick her up bodily —this small, caressable, defiant thing and carry her away from de bating societies, stand-up collars, knickerbockers and kindred horrors, and teach her the sublimity of love. But the methods of the Middle Ages are not good form in these days ; he was forced to content himself with an occasional outbreak of remon strance, entreaty, and today com mand. And herein was the cause of this fierce contest, the smoke of which yet lingered in the air. He bad demand ed that she should not bike in knicker bockers with a contemptible cad. She had replied that she would bike when, where and with whom she pleased, and that she really could not see what business it was of his, where upon he had stalked off to brandy and soda, and she had taken to her bed. Now, as I have said, he was a cun ning dog. He pondered over the situation, and at last evolved a scheme of re venge and ultimate conquest. There was in her circle of acquaint ances one young woman of whom she always spoke with a lofty and dis dainful air. To this particular young woman he now addressed a note ask-* ing if he might have the honor of riding with her the next afternoon in the Park. When he received a gra cious note in the affirmative a grin of unholy joy lighted up his stern, dark face. Accordingly, the next afternoon when she, in a tan Eton jacket, and the snuggest, smartest knickerbockers possible, was bowling along through the park with the Contemptible Cad, she suddenly saw approaching on the tan the man she had flouted, torment ed and annoyed in every possible way, and whom she had come to look upon as her special property, devo tedly bending over That Girl, fault lessly attired and looking very dainty and feminine indeed. Somehow her knickerbockers sud denly appeared vulgar, and she wished TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, JANUARY 23. 1909. she had a skirt to hide them. She saw That Girl give them a covert glarce of quiet scorn as she rode by. Miiiti? vuie immediately made worse by the remark of the Contempti ble Cad. “Bah Jove, how stunning she looked 1 Aw—after all, you know, a pretty woman never looks so well as in an irreproachable habit, don’t you think?” And then she snapped out “No,” to the great surprise of the Contempti ble Cad, and said she had a headache and would go home at once. In vain her escort told her that a spin would be the best medicine for her head. She paid no attention to bis mean derings. Home she would go —home she went. * The rest of the afternoon she spent in composing and arranging the chill ing, scathing speech with which she proposed to annihilate her bon com rade that evening when he called. But he did not come. Then it was that she began to have a funny little sensation in the neigh borhood of her heart, and a funny lit tle choking lump in her throat. She bad been so sure of him. He had always been so devoted. He had never failed her before. What did it mean ? Could that girl— And she saw him again on horse back, bending over the grateful pretty girl at his side. Ah ! a new, a tor menting, a cruel emotion seized this self-poised, independent, progressive young woman. For the first time in her life she knew what it was to be jealous. “Could he have suffered so when he asked her not to bicycle with the Con temptible Cad?” This was not an agreeable question, but it kept thrust ing its face in hers, despite her efforts to laugh it away. She passed a very miserable even ing alone. She tried to read an in structive article on “The Advance ment of Woman,” but its dreary plati tudes bored her. A dark, strong, tender face would come between her and the pages of the magazine. She glanced at the illustrations of bicycling women in certain comic pa pers, and shuddering wondering if she looked like them. At last she could endure it no long er, and sitting down at her desk, wrote a curt little note with just a tinge of friendliness, enough she thought to bring him to her feet the next evening. But she reckoned without her host. Next day came a courteous worded reply, stating that until she showed some disposition to cease certain cus toms which she knew perfectly well made him unhappy, he would beg her to excuse him from seeing her. This was a blow. He had so long submitted to her dictatorial little ways, so long had fetched and carried and waited, that his sudden revolt was actually stupe fying. When she recovered a trifle from her amazement she tossed her head and that settled it. But it didn’t. As the days went by she missed him—missed his devotion, kindness and loyalty—missed his companion ship, the pleasant confidences, the talk, the laughter—yes, even the quarrels. It became intolerable at last, and so one day she let the woman come to the surface and sent him a sweet, cordial note, asking him to come and be reconciled. "Now,” she said, as she arrayed herself in the gown he liked best, “I must not concede too much. Man is an overbearing animal. He takes all he can get. I must remember I have a cause to maintain.” But when she went toward him with outstretched hands, blushing di vinely, she looked so sweet, so radi ant, so womanly, he suddenly snatch ed her to his heart and kissed her rapturously. ‘ ‘This is not a strictly friendly pro ceeding,” she began, endeavoring to escape from the arms which held her as if they would never grant release. “Darling,” he said, “never mind about the friendship—let that go. We are no longer comrades and good fellows. It is useless to try to cheat me by those terms. I love you—love you, do you hear? And you love me, or you would never have sent for me. But I shall go away forever unless you accede to my terms.” “And what are they?” she mur mured, hidiug her face on his heart to escape the storm of kisses. “Unconditional surrender. No de bating societies, no knickerbockers, no progression. A wedding next month.” She hesitated a moment, as she saw her freedom and the cause for which she had been ready to lay down her life, slipping away from her. Then lifting her face she looked at him with her heart in her eyes. “Do you know,” she murmured, “I think I must have loved you all along or I would not have fought so with you.” So they were reconciled and lived happily ever afterward. IT WOULD HOT WOBK. Mr. Seabury and his wife were on the point of moving to another fiat. Both of them were anxious that the transfer should be made with the least possible expense, and the near ness of the new home promised mate rially to further this aim. “I can carry loads of little things over in my brown bag,” announced Mrs. Seabury. “And you can take books and so on in you big satchel.” In discussing further the matter of transportation Mrs. Seabury remark ed that, notwithstanding the heat, she could wear her winter coat over, leave it and return for her spring coat. The idea charmed her imprac tical husband. “Why, I can do the same thing !” he said, “I’ll wear over one suit and then come back for another!” — Youth's Companion. There is nothing more friendly than a wet dog. TIBBS AND INBUBANCE. “I suppose you heard that Blank & Co. were burned out from the roof to the basement last night ?” remarks he man in the car. “No!” exclaims the friend who hasn’t seen the morning paper. “I suppose they carried insurance ?” “Oh, yes—a hundred thousand of it!” returns the first speaker, at which his friend settles back with the comment that everything is all right then. This is the laymen’s conclusion al most invariably. Some big concern burns out, but with insurance to an amount seeming to cover the loss the average man is disposed to feel that it is all right. He doesn’t stop to think pf the enormous risks of a bus iness which cannot be covered by insur ance A&d which for weeks, months or years after a fire are crippling and perhaps ruinous to the fire victim. Take, for example, a highly organ ized factory plant in prosperous times which has been turning out a vast specialized product from the hands of thousands of expert workmen. This plant, fitted with costly machinery, is covered by insurance upon its visible, material assets. Fire sweeps it and lays everything in hopeless ruin. If every piece of machinery, every build ing and all material adjuncts of the plant have been covered to full value in such a plant, will the reader dare make a rough guess as to what the limitations of loss may be ? Only the other day I stepped into a bookbindery, unostentatious in its street signs and occupying a fifth floor in an obscure street. In the elevator shaft was that peculiar odor which marks the track of fire and fire men days and weeks after such an accident. “Most of the fire was next door,” explained the proprietor, “but I guess the smoke and the water were about as bad for us. Sometimes it is almost better to have the fire yourself than be next door to it.” Which seemed to be especially true of book material. Where smoke and soot had failed to blot and ruin the stock, water from the engines in the street had flooded it until ruin alone was descriptive. Everything had been closed down, workers in the plant were idle, and the proprietor was awaiting the adjustment of the insurance which he had been carrying. But in the extent of this insurance it self was a knotty situation. Ordinarily the house had carried policies which would have left it the minimum of risk on its machinery, stock and materials. Ordinarily a still further blanket policy was car ried for the purpose of covering the normal amount of book material on hand owned by others and contracted for rebinding. But only a few days before the fire the house had received a consignment of $5,000 worth of law books to be bound. These volumes, aside from intrinsic value, represented so much of other value as to make the risk abnormal for almost any season. And these books were ruined. Before receiving them the binder had asked the owners to take out a policy for themselves protecting them against such fire loss. The firm had not done so, and when the fire damage camethedispositionof the owners was to hold the binder for them under one of the binders' blanket policies. On this one disputed point, taking it into court, will some one make a guess as to what this one feature of the fire may cost the binder, who to all purposes was “insured, ’ ’ if it should be settled in the supreme court after five or seven years, for example ? But in the case of the big manufac tory, with its imported special ma chinery, its season of rush work and its enormous and fluctuating stock of material —if on the morning after the fire the insuring companies settle full for the visible losses, how much has the company been damaged ? * Of first consideration, perhaps, is the enormous payroll of the concern. If most of the mechanical work of the plant has been done by pieceworkers, still the necessary force of directing employees on salary is a problem. The determination of the owners is to start anew. Tried and proved em ployees must be retained while the work of rehabilitation goes on. They must be paid even if they are to do no more than wait. Settlement of some kind must be made with con tractors who have been supplying raw materials from the hands of other thousands of workers. No matter what the clauses in contracts provid ing immunity in cases of fires, strikes and acts of Providence, every line of business affecting the welfare of the manufactory has been affected. The plant is a total loss. Before it can be rebuilt the ruins of the old factory must be cleared away. In ihe meantime all those customers of the manufactory who have been pressing for the filling of contract or ders find themselves shut out of any chance for receiving them. They turn at once to other competing es tablishments for the work. Not only does the burned out firm lose all chance of profits from this work, but it is running a long chance of losing some of its oldest and best customers of years’ standing. — Chicago Tribune. A Beloit, Kas., woman, according to the Times of that town, said to her servant: “Jane, I saw the milkman kiss you this morning. Hereafter I shall go out after the milk.” “It won’t do you no good,” the servant replied, “he has promised not to kiss any woman but me.” Teacher —“Johnny, can you in form the class as to how the age of a chicken is determined?” Johnny— “Yes’m. By the teeth.” Teacher — “Why, Johnny, chickens have no teeth !” Johnny —“No’m. But we have.” When a man asks yonr advice, he always tells you just bow he expects you to decide. Some men are as close as the next second. THE KAN WHO COULDN'T STAND THE QUIET. It is strange what city life will do to some people. For example, a friend of mine wanted to live with na ture and rented a cottage about a mile or two from the river on the oth er side of Mount Taurus. His en thusiasm before going out to his earth ly paradise was of the effervescent variety. He could not talk for two consecutive minutes without dragging in some reference to it. He stayed in that cottage exactly one night. The next morning he had a wild look in his eyes, and no thing could hold him from Broadway and his tucked in flat in the side of a cliff at One Hundred and Umpty umpth street. No more of nature for him. Nor would he even talk about it. The thing was like a skeleton in a closet, too horrible for the publicity of conversation. It was six months before I could get him to take me into his confidence. Then the grewsome secret came out. He couldn’t stand the quiet. He was so used to the discordant din of his dear Manhattan that the sweet si lence of nature was like a nightmare. No one could describe the terror of that one night on the hillside. In vain be listened for the musical sounds of the “I,” trains, for the satisfying click of flat wheels, for the shrieks of whistles, the sounds of revelers in the morning hours and the tin pan accents of the phonograph in the uext flat. These sounds would have lulled him to sleep as the mother’s lullaby does the fretful infant. But in a soltitude where there was nothing but the song of the katydids and crickets or the distant voice of mountain streams the stillness beat in upon his ears, kept him awake and made him afraid. There is a legend in the neighbor hood of another New York man who came here to live with nature, but for the truth of this I will not vouch. I have enough mendacity of my own to answer for without becoming re sponsible for that of other people. As the tale goes, this man on his first night had much the same terrifying experience as my friend, but he had more grit. He decided to stick it out, so he invented a contrivance just out side his window that would beat tin pans, jangle scrap iron and grind bowlders together. After that he slept in peace. VINEGAR AND ITS USES. The old-fashioned home remedy should never be depended upon in cases of illness when a good physician can be called. For trifling ailments, however, some of "grandmother’s remedies" may be depended upon. Pure cider vinegar, for instance, used to figure largely among house hold remedies, and may safely be used now when other remedies are not at hand. As a refreshing and cooling drink for feverishness and as a sedative try fifteen drops of vinegar in a glass of sugar water. A tablespoonful of vinegar in a glass of water to which have been added a teaspoonful of salt and a big pinch of cayenne pepper makes an excellent gargle for sore throat and inclination to cough caused by falling of the palate. For the bathing of fever patients or for patients afflicted with night sweats it is an excellent substitute for alcohol. A vinegar compress will stop al most any headache, and it is a good preventive of discoloration when im mediately applied to bumps and bruises. Bathing the forehead and wrists with vinegar will bring one out of a fainting fit. Vinegar sprinkled on a hot shovel sweetens the stale sick room air and proves an excellent disinfectant. A wineglassful of vinegar with a teaspoonful of salt added, given four times a day in teaspoonful doses, will cure diarrhoea; and as an antidote for poisoning by alkaloids and lye, and all narcotics, is highly recom mended.” In the kitchen vinegar has several uses which are often overlooked by the cook who knows its use only in salad dressing or pickling. A little vinegar added to the water in which fish is boiled will remove the strong, oily taste. When added to the water in which fowl is boiled vinegar tends to make the flesh more tender. If your beefsteak is tough, rub it with vinegar, let it stand for a few hours, and you will regard your butch er more kindly. A little vinegar added to butter and sugar is an excellent remedy for hoarseness. ENCOUBAGING THE BOY. “Son,” remarked Mr. Erastus Pinkley, “I done heard you talkin’ bout bein’ a great hunter.” “Dat’s what I said,” answered pickaninny Jim. ‘Ts gwinter hunt lions.” “An’ you mentioned bein’ erahtic explorer.” “Yassir.” “Well, jes’ byway of practice bef o’ you tackles any lions lemme see if you kin get de cow out’n pasture wifout bein’ hooked, an’ den as de winter comes along you kin train foh de north pole by wadin’ out in de snow to de wood pile twice a day. An’ don’ lemme hyah no mo’ ’bout not incour agin’ yoh youthful ambitions.” — Washington Star. Sparks— “l wonder why it is a woman lets out everything you tell her?” Sharks—“My dear boy, a woman has only two views of a secret —either it is not worth keeping or it is too good to keep." Scene : Grammar class. Dialogue between teacher and Johnny. Teach er —"What is the future of "he drinks?” Johnny— "He is drunk.” He has little faith in truth who rushes out with a blanket every time the wind of criticism arises. JEAN. It was most annoying to miss the railroad connection, and Jean won dered how she could pass the long af ternoon in the little junction city, where she must wait for the evening train. "If only papa weren’t so unreason ably particular about my men friends I could ’phone Jim Turner,” she aid to herself. "He’s the only per son I know here, and even if papa doesn’t like him, he’s a jolly fellow. I’m seventeen, and it seems to me that’s old enough io choose my owu Mends. Papa sends me away to school to make me self reliant, so he ought to expect me to decide things for myself.” She took down the station telephone directory, and in a minute more was talking to Jim. "What luck,” he said, "your be ing in town this particular afternoon, when I’m free to take you sailing !” "But I never go out in sailboats. Papa thinks them dangerous.” "Well, we’ll discuss that when I see you—in about five minutes.” After rather more effusive greetings than Jean expected or desired, Jim resumed, as soon as he arrived, the conversation about the sailboat, and urged her to let him sail her across the lake. "No, I simply can’t. Papa has never allowed me to go sailing unless he is with me,” said Jean, firmly. "Well, at any rate, come down to the shore and see what a trim little craft I have. I suppose your honored parent wouldn’t object to your look ing at my boat?” "Of course not,” answered Jean, pleasantly, although she did not quite like Jim’s manner of speaking of her father. “Jump in,” said Jim, when they reached the landing where the boat was moored. "You can’t see what a beauty she is unless you get in.” As Jean sank into the cushions of the stern Jim looked at her and laughed triumphantly. "Now, aren’t you glad were going for a sail, after all?” "But we’re not.” "Oh, yes, we are. Don’t you see we’re loosed from the pier?” "Please don’t let the boat go any farther. I really mustn’t sail.” "And it’s such a fine breeze we’ll be across the lake in no time,” said Jim, laughingly ignoring her protest as the sail filled with wind and they began scudding rapidly across the water. "You know you really want to go, and what your father has said about sailing ought not to bother you, because I understand he has also said things about me and you didn’t let that fact interfere with your letting me have the pleasure of your society this afternoon.” Jean stared at him in angry amaze ment. How could any one be so un gentlemanly ? Her father had said Jim could not be trusted, and he cer tainly could not. But, she asked her self, had she not proved herself equal ly untrustworthy ? A flush of shame rushed into her face as she spoke: "I’m not surprised that you think I’m in the habit of disobeying papa, but I am not, and I am very sorry that I did not respect his wishes to day. If I had, I should not have been sailing across this water against my will. If you are the least bit kind or manly you’ll take me in.” "Oh, well, if you’re going to be sore and not make a lark of it, I may as well steer toward shore.” Silently the boat was turned, and in silence Jim helped Jean out when they were once more at the pier, and there was no conversation until Jim bade her good-bye at the station. Then he said, almost shyly : "I suppose I was a brute. I hope you’ll try to forgive me.” "Yes, I forgive you. It’s harder to forgive myself.”— Youth's Compan ion. WOBST OF ALL. Mr. Dane, Mr. Hobart and Mr. Meek had been off fishing the day be fore. They had gone unexpectedly from the postoffice, where they met, and neither Mrs. Lane, Mrs. Hobart nor Mrs. Meek had been informed of their whereabouts until nightfall. "And it did beat all what poor luck we’d had I” said Mr. Lane when the three friends met the next day. "I tried to explain to Sadie that we kept staying in the hopes of fetch ing home something that would show why we’d stayed, but she said we’d acted like a parcel o’ yearlings and it would be one while before she’d have a hot apple pie for my dinner again and dumplings. She ran me uphill and down, I tell ye !” "Maria spoke of my clothes,” said Mr. Hobart forlornly. "She pointed out the way the dampness had cockled that coat I had on. She said ’twouldn’t ever be the same again and if I knew of anybody that was going to spending summer days heating great irons and pressing out clothes for a man like me she didn’t 1” "Marthy never said a word,” said Mr. Meek as the other two men turned to him, but as they remarked with one accord, "That’s the kind of wife to have !” Mr. Meek looked much de pressed. "The only trouble is,” he added, "she hasn’t spoken yet, and I don’t know when she will.” "Rufus, you old loafer ! do you think it’s right to leave your wife at the washtub while you pass your time fishing?” "Yassah, jedge ; ’sail right. Mah wife don’ need no watchin’. She’ll sho’ly wuk jes’ ez habd ez ef ah wuz dar.” Mr. Hicks—" You mean to tell me that you have a servant girl who gets up in the morning without being called?” Mrs. Wikes—"Yes, she’s in love with the milkman.” Hirum —"Was yer house damaged by that there cyclone?” Ike —"Dun- no. I hain’t found it yit.” ESTABLISHED 1860. FIDELITY OF THE DOG. This eloquent tribute to the dog’s faithfulness was uttered by the late United States Senator George Graham Vest during an argument in a dog case before a Missouri jury at a date and place now unknown : "Gentlemen of the jury—The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his ene my. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove un grateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him, per haps when he needs it most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a mo ment of ill considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolute, unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacher ous, is his dog. "Gentlemen of the jury, a man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he can be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends de sert he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heav ens. If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friend less and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies ; and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its em brace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even unto death.” A THIRD FBAYEB. "I was driving across the country in New Hampshire last summer on business,” said the Boston drummer, "and a jolt on the farmer’s wagon threw me out on my head and bruised me so badly that I was laid up at a farmhouse for two weeks. The farm er was a good-hearted but close-fisted man, and as soon as I recovered con sciousness he began to worry as to whatheoughttochargeme. I caught scraps of conversation and made out that he wanted to do the right thing, but did not want to let me off too cheaply. The day before I was to go he had another talk with his wife, and she advised him to make it an object of prayer. He went to the barn and came in half an hour later to say : "Wall, Hanner, I’ve been prayin’ over that feller’s case, and as nigh as I can make out I orter charge him about sls a week.” "If you did that I should be asham ed to look him in the face ag'in,” she replied. "You’d better go’n pray ag’in.” "He held out for a time, but finally sought the barn once more. When he came back he said: "I guess sls was a little steep, Hanner. As I see it now I shall charge him only $10.” "Samuel, was you in real airnest when you prayed?” she asked. "I was.” "Then there’s sunthin’ wrong some where. It hain’t worth no such price as that, and the nayburs would call us robbers. Go back to the barn once more and this time kneel in a new place.” "But I dou’t see how I’m to git it below $10,” he protested. "Wall, go’n try.” He went away and was gone a longer time, and when he came back there was a smile on his face. "What is it this time?” she asked. "Seven dollars a week, and I’ll drive him to town tomorrow.” ‘ ‘That’s good .Samuel —that’s good. That’s a fair price, and when he knows that you’ve prayed three times over it and had to give up your farm work most of the time to rub his bruises he won’t kick. If he does you kin jest sticic to your price and lay all the blame on the Lord.”— Joe Kerr. THE PRETTY WOXAN. As a general rule men admire a girl who is a bright, entertaining com panion and who has ever a kind word and pleasant smile for those around her. They admire the girl who is al ways neatly and becomingly dressed, no matter if the materials used are in expensive. The girl who can adapt herself to any society and who never puts on affected airs is always sure of popu larity. From the attitude which many men adopt toward pretty and fascina ting girls it is evident that their thonghts are upon a certain maxim of an old French diplomatist, who said, "Never marry a pretty or fascinating woman. Admire her from a distance, if you like, but do not tie her up to you by the bonds of matrimony ; after the wedding one wants something be sides smiles and charm.” Men in variably admire charm and prettiness in a woman, but unless these qualities carry with them certain other attrac tions they look elsewhere for their brides. ! Doctor— " The room seems cold, Mrs. Hooligon. Have you kept the ' thermometer at 70, as I told you ?” Mrs. Hooligan—"Shure, an’ Oi hev, docthor. There’s th’ thing in a toombler av warrum wather at this blissid minut.”