Newspaper Page Text
Old—we are trowing old; Going on through a beautiful road. Finding earth a more blessed abode; Nobler work by our hands to be wrought. Freer paths for our hope and our thought. Because of the beauty the years unfold, We are cheerfully growing old! Old—we are growing old; Going up where the aunahine is dear; Watching grander horisons appear Out of clouds that enveloped our youth; Standing firm on the mountains of truth; Because of the glory the years unfold, We are joyfully growing old. \ Old—we are growing old; Going In to the garden of rest That glow through the gold at the West, Where the rose and amaranth blend. And each path is the way to a friend; Because of the peace that the years un fold. We are thankfully growing old. Old—are we growing old? Life blooms as we travel on Up tiie hills, into fresh, lovely dawn; We are children, who do but begin The sweetness of living to win: Because heaven is in us, to bud and un fold. We are younger, for growing oli! —Lucy La room. :: MRS. LATONTS TEA va NSCONCED in the depths of her big arm-chair, a smile lighting up her fine old face that her white hair framed with a crown of snow, Mrs. Harmon was considering her nephew Andrew, a good-looking young fellow of 28, who, for his part, was considering the timepiece on the mantel, whose hands were already well past 3 o'clock. "Well, Andrew, do you find my clock Tery interesting?" In some confusion the young man stammered an excuse, but she went on,— "Now, don't deny It, you naughty fel low. You wanted to know if your visit bad lasted long enough for you to take your departure decently." "Not at all, aunt. Your guess Is quite wrong, for I haven't the slightest inten tion of going yet. But why do you keep a regular sun-dial like that in your drawing room?" "Perhaps because I was born so long ago that it is I and not the clock that is behind time. But come—instead of crit lcising my drawing room, tell me what you are going to do when you leave here." "In the first place, I am not going to leave here for some time; but when have wearied you with my presence until you cannot stand it any longer, It will be time for me to go to Mrs. Laton's tea." "Mrs. Laton—Pauline Laton?" "The same." "Ah, yes; I used to see her some time ago. I remember her vaguely—a large ' woman, dark-" "She is a blonde, aunt." "Indeed? She used to be a brunette. And so you are sighing at the feet of Mrs. Laton?" I "We are all sighing at her feet." "She must enjoy It." "Well, I rather think she does." "Is It fun?" "Yes, after a fashion. We are always the same little circle of friends, and then, besides Mrs. Laton, there's a ste ter, a rather good looking girl, and few other young matrons and bachelor girls," , "And What do you do besides look at thees women?" "We take tea, we gossip and flirt." "Oh. oh!" "But, my dear aunt, one must do something between 5 o'clock and din ner." "Evidently; and flirting is wbat you have found to do?" "It's a way to kill time." "I scarcely know just what you mean by the term. Explain It to me." "Oh, impossible. A definition for the word has long been sought, but It has not yet been found. But, given a young woman tete-a-tete with a young man who Is not a fool, and I warrant you It won't be long before you have a prac tical demonstration. Flirtation is a manner of being discreetly, indiscreet. To know how to flirt is no common ac complishment. It Is a veritable sci ence." "And Is love a science, too?" "No, It is rather an art." "And marriage—what Is it?" "Oh, that Is philosophy." "Indeed? At what age does one at tain this philosophy?" "As late as possible." "It seems to me that at 28-" ' "Aunt, aunt!" cried Andrew, spring ing from his chair, "confess that you are concocting some terrible plot. You look as guilty as a conspirator." Mrs. Harmon smiled a fine smile and enjoyed for a moment the consterna tion in her victim's face. Then she an swered, after a pause,— "Yes, you are right. I wish to get you married." "In Heaven's name, what have I done to you?" gasped the young man, with comic seriousness; and as the old lady still smiled, he continued: "See here, aunt, I should never have suspected you of such a thing. You, a woman of in telligence, a superior woman, descend ing to the role of matchmaker! It is a terrible shattering of my ideals." "Come, come, my poor boy, do not be so cast down. The girl is charming, I can assure you." "Of course," Andrew burst out, "the j0ri is always charming- Ok, I know am the Is her; I can see her now; she may not be exactly pretty, but as you have said, j she Is charming. She dresses admira bly, and makes all her own gowns. She stood at the head of her classes In school, and attends lectures now. More over, she has taken cooking lessons and can put up preserves. She plays the piano, she sings, she paints, and she has tidy fortune In her own right. Bah! No, a thousand times, no! 1 do not want this miracle of perfection. 1 know a thing or two, aunt, even If I don't look It, and If I marry I shall marry a woman who suits me. But I know girls—they are all alike, and I know what they are and what they are worth. There isn't one who suits me, or can suit me, and I shall remain a bachelor." And you go to take tea at Mrs. La ton's." murmured Mrs. Hannon be tween her teeth, while a disturbing ex pression came Into her clear-seeing old eyes. Under this Ironical and even Inquisi torial look Andrew lost countenance a little; he could not deny that to matri mony he preferred flirting with Mrs. Laton. He was pulling himself together to reply, or rather to defend himself, when the street door bell was heard. "A caller, eh? Is this your reception day, aunt, or do you, too, give your friends tea at 5 o'clock?" "You are impertinent, nephew. At my age a woman does not give 5 o'clock flirtations. It Is not even a caller. I am sure It Is my little friend Rosamond, the 'charming girl' I spoke of." "I shall flee, then." "Do you not wish even to see her?" "Never! Or. If you Insist, I shall go Into this little ante-room and look at her through the crack of the door. That Is the only concession I shall make," and the young man stepped quickly Into the next room as the opposite door opened to admit the visitor; through the slit Andrew could make out the graceful silhouette of a young girl. "How do you do, Mrs. Harmon?" said the girl, as she entered the room. I have brought back the little books on the orphan asylum that you lent mamma. May I stay a moment with you?" She continued to keep her back to ward Andrew, and he, now beginning to get tired of the game, had about con cluded that she must be frightfully ugly. "Sit down here, dear, beside me, and Mrs. Harmon easily contrived to place the girl just opposite the small room; and the young man, approaching his eye to the crack, was struck by the pretty face he beheld. "Well, Rosamond, what are you do ing nowadays? Are you going out much?" No, very little. I had a card for Mrs. Laton's tea this afternoon, but wrote her I was 111. You will not be tray tne, will you?" and she laughed merry laugh, that set Andrew's heart to vibrating. Do you not care for such affairs?" asked Mrs. Harmon. "Surely, Mrs. Harmon, you do not think it would be amusing to spend an hour or two watching Mrs. Laton's flir tations with no one to talk to but the Insipid women and stupid men of her set?" "You are severe, my child." "Severe? Well, with a woman like Mrs. Laton I do not think one can be too much so." Instinctively Mrs. Harmon raised her eyes to the door that concealed An drew, and, under pretext of arranging the portiere, she crossed the room, and, as she rearranged the drapery, whis pered to her nephew,— "It's nearly 5—you'll be late for your tea." Mrs. girt,' tea! but I'll men I and five, he his ful of and loBt he old he In a A But her warning was unheeded; An drew did not budge. As for the girl by the Are, she was still full of her idea. "Do you know Mrs. Laton, Mrs. Har mon?" she asked. "Yes, yes," the old lady hastened to reply, and to turn the conversation she went ou. "But you are wrong to de clare that all men are stupid. There are some who are quite sensible." "Sensible? Well, I don't know them. I do not mean that they are all stupid, but they think themselves so superior that they are wearisome. They are vain, insufferable bores, with their blase airs anil their idea that they are irresis tible because they can flirt with Mrs. Laton, who has bleached hair, smears paint on her face as if it were a palette, and whose brains are good for nothing but to devise outrageous gowns." Again Mrs. Harmon cast an uneasy glance toward the little room, in which Andrew was fast waxing augry. He would have liked to strangle this girl, whose superb health and triumphant beauty irritated him. "And when will you get married, my dear?" suggested Mrs. Harmon, again throwing hersölf into the breach. "I shall never marry." "Indeed? Why not?" "Why not?" repeated Rosamond, a shadow of melancholy coming over her face that Andrew admired in spite of himself. "Because I am a little fool who cannot do as the rest do. I would wish to love my husband and to have him love me. I would wish to marry a man whom I should single from among the rest for his goodness and intelli gence. I would wish to have a confi dence in him, and above all to be proud of him." As the girl spoke she had become ani mated with a gentle exaltation, which was not without Its effect on the young man behind the door. "Well, Rosamond," said Mrs. Har mon, "why do you not realize your dream ?" "Because there are no young men nowadays who care to look for a girl who pleases them. Marriage for them is a-matter of business, nothing more, and the woman herself does not count They marry when they have lost their money, and the little heart they pos sessed has been frittered away on some Mrs. Laton or another." | Again Mrs. Harmon grose, and pre tending she had an order to give, ex cused herself and hastened to her nephew. | "Well, aunt she baa given us a nice dressing down, eh? For a 'charming girt,' I would back her against the world." I Hurry, Andrew; It Is late, and you have almost missed your tea." | My tea!" he repeated. "Bother my tea! Is there nothing else In the world but my tea? Now, you must find an excuse to bring me Into the room and I'll show that young shrew whether all men are fools. Oh, she need have no fear, I shall not try to many her, for I still have all my hair, a little money and a heart still Intact." | Mrs. Harmon could not restain a smile at the young man's vexation, and five, minutes later Andrew entered the drawing room. | But, contrary to expectations, the con- ! vernation did not become a war of words; on the contrary, the gtej's fresh | gayety disarmed Andrew's abger at \ once. His preconception fled before her dimpled smiles and her gentle voice, and he soon fell under her charm, forgetting , his anger In his admiration of her grace ful movements, the penetrating timbre of her voice, the sparkle of her wit. | The hour for the tea had long passed and Andrew was still there. He bad loBt all desire to run after Mrs. Laton, ! that faded doll whom Rosamond—as ! he was forced to admit to himself—had portrayed so truthfully. j And ensconced once more In the depths of her arm-chair. Mrs. Harmon ! smiled a kindly smile, and silently re garded the young people, who, for their J part, looked at one another with looks that do not deceive and In which the old aunt read with joy the hope of a happy union. to He my a her of fool a ani men girl SLEW HIS OWN DAUGHTER. Small the Tragedy of Brigandage In Uatmatian Village. How many times has the theme of the followlng story been used by roman cists? In the village of Köln, In the a dlstrict of Zara, Dalmatia, lived a peasant by the name of Valentisch. Not long ago, accompanied by his daughter, he drove a pair of oxen to a neighboring market and sold them for 250 gulden. It He gave the money to his daughter to carry. On their way home he was at tacked by two robbers, who killed him In the hope of getting the money. In the meantime tij} daughter, panic stricken, had run away. She reached a hut and sank exhausted at the door, A woman took her In and, hearing hei story, Insisted on her staying the night there, as the mountains were very un safe. , An hour later two men appeared— the murderers, as It turned out, and one of them the husband of the hostess. | The girl did not recognize them and gladly accepted their offer of hospitality and aid. When they learned that she had the money they determined to kill her also. They sent her to bed with the daughter of the house, particularly In structing the latter to sleep on the left -side of the bed. Later In the night the two men came into the room and stran gled the girl that lay on the right side of the bed. As It happened. It was not the intended victim that was killed, but the girl that was with her. The guest had got up In the night to get a drink of water and the other girl, In her sleep, rolled over to the right side of the bed, thus unconsciously sav ing the life of the guest at the expense of her own. The half-crazed witness of the crime managed to escape while the murderers were taking away the body of the dead girl and reached a neighboring village in safety. She aroused the police and they got to the hut just as the chief robber was firing a kiln to burn the body of his daugh ter, and it was not until then that he learned what he had done.—New York Commercial Advertiser. The Awakening of the Boy. "There was always something very brave and beautiful to me in the sight of a boy when he first 'wakes up,' and seeing the worth of life takes it up with a stout heart and resolves to car ry it nobly to the end through all dis appointments and seeming defeats. I was born with a boy's nature and al ways had more sympathy for and in terest in them than in girls, and have fought my fight for nearly 15 years with a boy's spirit under my 'bib and tucker,' and a boy's wrath when I got 'floored,' so I'm not preaching like a prim spinster, but freeing my mind like one of 'our fellows,' and as such I wish you all success, a cheerful heart, an honest tongue and a patient temper to help you through the world, for it's rough going and up-hill work much of the way."—"Miss Alcott's Letters to Her 'Laurie,' " in The Ladies' Home Journal. ' Five Necessary Books for Young Men There are certain fundamental books upon w'hicb any profitable reading should be based. 1 mean the Bible; Shakespeare; a good dictionary; an en cyclopaedia, and Roget's "Thesaurus.'* These are compelling, and all intelli gent reading must be based upon these works, in the order that I have named. Edward Bok, in The Ladles' Home JournaL Minute Republic. Goust is the smallest republic in the world in point of area. It is in the Pyrenees, is GOO acres in extent, and has 130 Inhabitants. Largest Sawmill. The largest sawmill in the world Is to be erected at Aberdeen, Wash. Bankrupts are broken, but idiots are only cracked. THE "LOOP THE LOOP** CRAZE. THE LOOP IN THE CENTRIFUGAL RAiHFAT. - The "flip-flap," or "toop-the-foop," la the latest sensation, designed for those for whom the old scenic railwsy with its sadden curves was not swift enough. It applies a scientific principle to the conveyance of s carload of human beings around the inside of s track describing a perpendicular circle—pod they don t fall out. To describe It more familiarly, the people In the car are In the po*i tion of the water in a pitcher which la whirled rapidly above. Its mouth downward part of the time. Why doesn't the water pour out? is the natural question. Well, it doesn't have time. Not exactly. In fact, the force driving the water ahead is so much greater than the force of gravity drawing it down that it cannot fall. The people in the loop the-loop rush down a grade at such speed that they cannot fall even when they are upside down in the loop, because tbs momentum they have gained sends them onward, presses them Into their seats In the car and holds them there until the car Is once more bottom side down. The sensation In the fllp-fl&p Is not pleasant. The traveler feels as if a giant hand had been placed on his head and was squeezing him down in fhe seat. Rush ing along at a great rate, the car is suddenly caught in an upward circle, runs up, back and down, before the people seated in It lose their forward impetus. It's very scientific, but not very pleasant either to see, indulge in or think of. Mr. Wu, the Chinese minister at Washington, tried it once. He said once was enough. At Coney Island it has been suppressed by the police. ASSASSI N OF M 'KINLEY. How Leon Csolgoia Became an Adept In the Goa pel of Hat^ The assassin who took the life of President McKinley and who plunged the whole nation into grief is an auar chist and bears the name of Leon Czol gosz. Like vermin of his kind, he Is a shivering coward at heart, valnglori ous and boastful. His life was ordln ary, and contemptible where not or dinary, until his sudden eruption Into the Immortality of Infamy. Regretfully It must be Bald that this free country gave him birth. But his pernicious doctrines were learned among the un assimilated crcatpres who came to us, bearing the brand of old-world despot ism and haunting despair. Here these people lived In the congregations that misery gathers. Only the brutal—the law of violence—could appeal to them, That they knew. That they had known through centuries of proscription and , persecution, and In their cult of fren zied hate and destruction they raised it to be the regenerating principle of the | V Û / I a questions continued, and through asso dation with the apostles of the doctrine 0 j hate he became an avowed and Lb.ON CZOLOO.-Z. world. It was easier to destroy than to build; and if they could not erect themselves to the plane of decent citi zenship and Christian civilization, why, they would pull the temple of order and law and justice and government into the chaos of their own wild rav ings. Such was the school where Leon Czolgosz learned the gospel of hate. From such teachers as Emma Gold man, high priestess of anarchism and free love, he claims to have drunk the inspiration of his unpardonable offense against the person of the President and the people of the United States. Czolgo8z's parents, who are living In Cleveland, were natives of Russian Poland and came to this country thir ty-five years ago. In the city of Detroit the assassin was born. He attended the schools of that city, and early in life began its duties like millions of other American boys and apparently with equal opportunities. He gravi tated to Chicago and there became identified with the socialistic move ment. From Chicago he went to Cleve land, his parents meantime having re moved to a farm In the vicinity of the latter city. His Interest in socialistic Is are bitter anarchist He complained at one time because be was not admitted to the inner circle—to the circle of -the wretches who plan and carry out as sassination. He had had enough, he said, of theorizing; what he wanted was something "to do.". It should be noted that Czolgosz had no religion. Like all other anarchists, he regarded religion as a mental nn sounduess, a species of priestcraft that furnished an easy method of living to the preachers. Anarchy is aimed as muoh against the church—all churches and any church—as against society. The assassin had listened to an In cendiary speech, delivered by Emma Goldman In Cleveland. It fired his brain; It set his blood aflame; it stirred his vanity to do something for the cause of the gospel of hate. Accord ing to his own confession made to the Buffalo police, he left the meeting place determined on assassination. But the assassination of the President had not as yet taken form In his frenzied brain. His mind was merely in a whirl his passions had worked him up to the point of desperation;, he had not deter mined upon whom the vials of his wrath would fall. Then he visited Chi cago, and one day the "light," as he viewed It, came upon him. He read In a paper that the President was to visit Buffalo. And purchasing a ticket be went to the Pan-American city. The resolution of the man had now taken form, and with a "duty" to do— an execrable, Ignoble deed—his mind settled down to business. He perfected his plans. He Inquired about the fuue- h tlons at which the President would be J present He learned of bis usual hab its on such occasions. Possessed of every detail that could aid in his dam-, nable Infamy, he watted. The President on Tuesday reached Buffalo, and the assassin was on band near the railroad gate when the distin guished party arrived and entered the grounds. But the police forced him back; the crowds surged here and there Czolgosz could not get an opportunity to use his revolver. Wednesday, while the President was speaking, the as sassin was within hearing distance, hut could not get near enough for his fell deed. He would not take any chance of shooting and missing, for then he would be arrested and his opportunity would be lost forever. Thursday he spent the day on the grounds, seeking in vain for an oppor tunity to reach the President, But the opportunity did not present Itself and he returned home dispirited. "I was al most hopeless that night," the scoun drel says In his statement to the police. And then came the unlucky day. "I got to the Temple of Music the first one," Czolgosz says, "and waited at the spot where the reception was to be held. Then he came, the President— and I got in line and trembled and trembled until I got right up to him, and then I shot him twice, through my white handkerchief. I would have fired more, but I was stunned by a blow in the face—a frightful blow that knocked me down—and then everybody jumped on me. I thought 1 would be killed, and was surprised the way they treat ed me." Czolgosz has been sullen and loqua cious at times, as becomes his abnormal mind. The conviction that he Is now one of the "great ones of the earth," that all the world is talking of him, renders him boastful. It pleased his vanity when he was summoned to be photographed, for he knew his picture would be published broadcast, and what cared he for the Infamy if only It were eternal. He posed for the cam era with the heroic attitude of a mar tyr. Behind the strong bars of bis cell and the stronger arm of the law, he boasted that on striking the President he did his duty, for "1 am an anarchist," he proudly added. He even went to the extent of illustrating to the officers* the manner in which he shot the Presi dent, and he Jubilantly dilated upon his shrewdness In deceiving the Presi dent's protectors with the bandaged arm that held the revolver. a Tbe Pawnshop in Mexico. The pawrnshop of Mexico Is a recent comer In the charitable field, but has been extremely successful ever «luce it was opened. In 1899 the official report showed that business to the extent of i over $3,000,000 was done by this insti- I tution, which was patronized by 800, 000 people, or, rather, the amount of money specified loaned on 800,000 transactions. Catarrh The cause exists in the blood, in what causes inflammation of the mucous membrane. It is therefore impossible to cure the disease by local applications. It is positively dangerous to neg lect it, because it always affects^ the stomach and deranges the general health, and is likely to develop into consumption. Many bare been radically and permanently cured by Hood's Sarsaparilla. It cleanses the blood and baa a peculiar alterative and tonle effect. R. Long. California Junction, Iowa, writes: "I had catarrh three years, tost my appetite and could not sleep. My head pained me and I felt bad all over. I took Hood's Sarsaparilla and now have a good appetite, sleep well, and have no symptoms of eatarrh." Hood's Sarsaparilla Promises to cure, and keeps the proifci8& It ft better not to put off treatment—buy Hood's today. A LIFE'S SAD ENDING. Sir Biwin Arnold's Da vs Balacad feV Hla Japanese Wife. _ To thousands of Americana who have read the works of Sir Edwin Arnold and listened to his lectures It will be newa to learn that the distinguished English scholar and sage, robbed of biz life's savings by his son, is forced, though blind and feeble, to work hard for a living. The sharer of his bur dens—the uncomplaining and con stant attendant upon him—is a little, black-haired, black-eyed, dark-skinned Japanese woman,*wbo, by virtue of tha h J SIR IDWIIT ARNOLD, magic which Japanese people attach to a cup of tea. Is his wife. The pathetic tenderness and faithful ness of this little wife in the stricken condition of Sir Edwin, has caused great comment In social and literary circles In London. Sir Edwin has lost the sight of his eyes and. as a result of paralysis, he cannot walk a step. Constant and ten der In her devotion to him, is his little, dark-faced wife, w'ho, before her mar riage, was Mrs. Watambb, widow of a distinguished officer of the Japanese army. His marriage to this woman was the sensation of England at the time. He met her In Yokohama in 1801 when he was visiting Japan with bis daughter. Edith. Their marriage was sudden— so sudden that Miss Edith was shock l.ADV ARNOLD. ed. It was explained to her that they had been wedded by the Japanese* method of drinking a cup of tea to gether. When the daughter asked her father about the ceremony, which seemed to her questionable, he said: "It Is the custom of the country, and will be as binding to me as would be a pompous ceremony In a cathedral." . And now toward the close of a life'» vicissitudes tbe devoted creature who clings to him when others have for saken Is the woman whom he won by a cup of tea. Wrenched Foot end Ankle Cured By St Jacobs Oil. Gentlemen ;—A short time ago, I severely wrenched my foot and ankle. The injury was very painful, and the consequent inconvenience (being obliged to keep to business) was very trying. A friend recommended 8t. Jacobs Oil, and I take great pleasure in informing you that one applica tion was sufficient to effect a complete cure. To a busy man so simple and effective a remedy is invaluable, and I shall lose no opportunity of suggesting the use of St. Jacobs Oil. Yours truly, Henry J. Doirs, Manager, The Cycles Co., London, England. St. Jacobs Oil is safe, sure and never failing. Conquers pain. it Dreams tell talee which waking hours would consign to oblivion. of i ----,— , I do not believe PUo's Cure for Consumption of ________ Lots of men would rather lose a 'friend than a dollar.