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Any person who takes the paper ropulurly from thf poaiofttcc, tvnether directed to his liamo or whethe he is a sub crifoor or not, is responsible for the p»y The courts have uecxlcd tliut refusing to tfck NEWSPAPERS mid periodICOIB from the postofHco. moving and leaving thorn unfilled lor xs pr\v V*CUJ UVIDUNCE 01 INTKNTIO.N'A:, FKADT*. THE ORGAN GRINDER. "The rattle and roar of a dusty street. In the glare of the noonday sun, The hopeless lag in the dragging feet Of the tollers with toil ne'er done: Yet a sudden light shines in wearied eyes, And the care-lined faces smilo As the humble minstrel his handle plies— And they hear—and forget a while. The monkey—gay in his coat of red Importunes his copper fee. While the children, grimy and gutter bred. Dance in riotous gayety There's a mercy lies in the stolid grind, And it lifts the listeners far A moment, on wings of magic wind, From the squalor of things that are. And the pallor and squalor are all forgot In the wheeze of a threadbare tuno That makes of the alley a beauty spot, With the charm of a day in June •Seeming to freshen the musty air To make it a thing anew Like a field of corn with its tasseled hair That the breeze blows whlsp'ring through. But the moments fly and the tune is done— And the light in the sick eyes fades Like the dying glow of the setting sun Ere the gloom ot tho black night's shades: •God's poor had need of a breathing space— But to be for a moment free In the tender spell that was cast by grace Of a sidewalk minstrelsy. »-01in L. Lyman, in Youth's Companion. A Daughter By GEN. CHARLES KING. Copyright, 1902, by The Hobart Company. CHAPTER XI. The noonday sun was staring hotly •down, an liour later, 011 a stirring1 picture of frontier warfare, with that •clump of cottonwoods as the central feature. Well for ltay's half liun •dred, that brilliant autumn morning, that their leader had had so many a .year of Indian campaigning! lie now seemed to know by instinct •every scheme of his savage foe and to act accordingly. Ever since the •command had come in sight of the Elk Tooth the conviction had been growing on ltay that Stabber must have received many accessions and •was counting on the speedy coming •of others. The signal smokes across the wide valley the frequent essays to tempt his advance guard to charge and chase the boldness with which •the Indians showed on front and flank the daring pertinacity with •which they clung to the stream bed for the sake of a few shots at the foremost troopers, relying, evidently, on the array of their comrades be yond tho ridge to overwhelm any force that gave close pursuit the fact that other Indians opened on the advance guard and the left Hank ers, and that a dozen, at least, tore »wuy out of the sandy arroyo the •moment they saw the line start at •the gallop—all these had tended to convince the captain that now, at last, when he was miles from home •and succor, the bioux stood ready in abundant force to give him desper ate battle. To dart on in chase of the three •warriors would simply result in the scattering of his own people and their being individually cut oft" and strick -en down by circling swarms of their red foes. To gather his men and at tempt to force the passage of the Elk Tooth ridge meant certain de struction of the whole command. The Sioux would be only too glad to scurry away from their froat and let them through, and then in big circle whirl all about him, pouring •in a concentric fire that would be sure to hit some, at least, exposed as tlicy wouid be on the open prairie, while their return shots, radiating "wildly at the swift-darting- warriors, would be almost as sure to miss, lie •would soon be weighted down with •wounded, refusing to leave them to be butchered unable, therefore, to move in any direction, and so com pelled to keep up a shelterless, hope less fight until, one by one, he and his gallant fellows fell, pierced by Indian lead, and sacrificed to the •scalping knife as were Custer's 300 a decade before. No, It ay knew too much of fron tier strategy to be so caught. There stood the little grove of dingy green, -n prairie fortress, if one knew how to use it. There in the sand of the stream bed, by digging, were they •«ure to find water for the wounded, •if woundeil there had to be. There by the aid, of a few hastily thrown "intrenehments he could have a little plains fort and be ready to repel even an attack in force. Horses could be Jierded in the depths of the sandy •shallows. Men could be distributed •in big circle through the trees and •long the bank and, with abundant rations in their haversacks and water "to be had for the digging, they could hold out like heroes unUl relief 'Should come from the south. Obviously, therefore, the cotton wood grove was the place, and thither at thundering charge Field led the foremost line, while llay •waved on the second, all hands cheer ing with glee fit sight of the Sioux -darting wildly away up the north ward slope. Ten men in line, far ex tended, were sent right forward half way across the flats, ordered to drive the Indians from the bottom and cripple as many ae possible but, if menaced by superior numbers, to fall back at the gallop, keeping well away from the front of the grove, so that the fire of its garrison might not be "masked." The ten had dart ed after the scurrying warriors, full half way to the beginning of the slope, and then, just as Ray had pre dicted, down came a cloud of bril liant foemen, seeking to swallow the little ten alive. Instantly their ser geant leader whirled them about and, pointing the way, led them in wide circle, horses well in hand, back to the dry wash, then down into its sandy depths. Here every trooper sprang from saddle, and with the rein looped on the left arm, and from the shelter of the straight, stiff banks, opened sharp fire on their pursuers, just as Clayton's platoon, dismounting at the grove, sprang to the nearest cover and joined in the fierce clamor of carbinos. ltacing down the slope at top speed as were the Sioux, they could not all at once check the way of their nimble mounts, and the ardor of the chase had carried them far down to the flats before the fierce crackle began. Then it was thrilling to watch them, veering, circling, sweeping to right or left, ever at furious gallop, throw ing their lithe, painted bodies behind their chargers' necks, clinging with one leg and arm, barely showing so much as an eyelid, yet yelping and screeching like so many coyotes, not one of their number coming within -100 yards of the slender fighting line in the stream bed some of them, in deed, disdaining to stoop, riding de fiantly along the front, firing wildly as they rode, yet surely and gradu ally guiding their ponies back to the higher ground, back out of harm's way and, in five minutes from the time they had flashed into view, com ing charging over the mile away ridge, not a red warrior was left on the low ground—only three or four luckless ponies, kicking in their last struggles or stiffening on the turf, while their riders, wounded or un hurt, had been picked up and spirited away with the marvelous skill only known to these warriors of the plains. Then Ray and his men had time to breathe and shout laughing comment and congratulation. Not one, as yet, was hit or hurt. They were secure for the time in a strong position, and 'had signally whipped off the first as sault of the Sioux. Loudly, excitedly, angrily these latter were now conferring again far up the slope to the north. At least 100 in one concourse, they were hav ing hot discussion over the untoward result of the dash. Others, obedient to orders from the chief were circling far out to east and west and cross ing the valley above and below the position of the defense. Others, still, were galloping back to the ridge, where, against the sky line, strong bodies of warriors could be plainly seen, moving excitedly to and fro. Two little groups slowly making their way to the crest gave no little comfort to the boys in blue: Some, at least, of the charging force had been made to feel the bite of the cavalry weapon and were being borne to the rear. I'.iit no time was to be wasted. Al ready from far up the stream bed two or three Indians were hazard ing long-range shots at the grove, and lJay ordered all horses into a bend of the "wash," where the side lines were whipped from the blanket straps and the excited sorrels se curelv hoppled. Then, here, there and in a seoru of places along the bank and again at the edge of the cottonwoods, men had been assigned their stations and bidden to find cover for themselves without delay. Many burrowed in the soft and yield ing soil, throwing the earth forward in front of them. Others utilized fallen trees or branches. Some two or three piled saddles and blanket rolls into a low barricade, and all, \\lulc crunching abuilt their work, watched the feathered warriors as they steadily completed their big cir cle far out on the prairie, l'.ullets came whistling now fast and fre quently. nipping off leaves and twigs and causing many a fellow to duck instinctively and to look about him, ashamed of his dodge, yet sure of the fact that time had been in tiie days of the most, hardened veteran of ttie troop when he, too, knew what St was to shrink from the whistle of hostile lead. It would be but a mo ment or two, they all understood, before the foe would decide on the next move then every man would be needed. Meantime, having stationed Field OD the north front, with orders to note every movement of the Sioux, and having assigned Clayton to the minor duty of watching the south front and the flanks, Hay was moving cheerily among his men, speeding from cover to cover, suggesting here, helping there, alert, even joy ous in manner. "We couldn't have a better roost, lads," lie said. "We can stand off double their number easy. We can hold out a week if need be, but you bet the major will be reaching out after us before we're two days older. Don't waste your shots. Coax them close in. Don't fire at a galloping Indian beyond i!00 yards. It's waste of iiowder and lead." Cheerily, joyously they answered him, these his comrades, his soldier children, men Mho had fought with him, many of their number, in dozen fields, and men who would stand by him, their dark-eyed little captain, to the last. Even the young est trooper of the 50 seemed in spired by the easy, laughing confi dence of the lighter hearts among their number, of the grim, matter of fact pugnacity of the older cam paigners. It was significant, too, that the Indians seemed so divided in mind as to the next move. There was loud wrangling, and mucli dis putation going on in that savage council to the north. Stabber's braves and Lame Wolf's followers seemed bitterly at odds, for old hands in the fast-growing rifle pits pointed out on one rside as many as half a dozen of the former's war riors whom they recognized and knew by sight, while Kay, studying the shifting concourse through liis glasses, could easily see Stabber himself raging among them in vio lent altercation with a tall, superb ly built and bedizened young brave, a sub-cliief, apparently, who for his part, seemed giving Stabber as good as he got. Lame Wolf was not in sight at all. lie might still be far from the scene, and this tall warrior be acting as his representative. But whoever or whatever he was he had hearty following. More than three fourths of the wrangling warriors in tiie group seemed backing him. lJay, after a few words to Sergt. Winsor, crawled over beside his si lent and absorbed young second in command, and, bringing his glasses to bear, gazed across a low parapet of sand long and fixedly at the tur bulent throng 1,000 yards away. "It's easy to make out Stabber," he presently spoke. "One con almost hear that foghorn voice of his. But who the mischief is that red villain opposing liim? I've seen every one of their chiefs in the last five years. All are men of 40 or more. This fel low can't be a big chief. He looks long years younger than most of 'em, old Lame Wolf, for instance, yet he's cheeking Slabber as if he owned the whole outfit." Another long stare, then again: "Who tho mischief can he be?" No answer at his side, and Ray, with the lenses still at his eyes, took no note for the moment that Field remained so silent. Out at the front the excitement increased. Out through the veil of surging war riors, the loud-voiced, impetuous brave twice burst his way, and seemed at one and the same time, in his superb poise and gesturings, to be urging" the entire body to join him in instant assault on the troops, and hurling taunt and anathema on the besieged. Whoever he was, he was in a veritable fury. As many as half of the Indians seemed utterly carried away by his fiery words, and with much shouting and gesticulation and brandishing of gun and lance, were yelling appro bation of his views and urging Stab ber's people to join them. More fu rious language followed and much dashing about of excited ponies. "Have you ever seen that fellow be fore," demanded Bay, of brown-eyed Sergt. insor, who had spent a life time on the plains, but 'Winsor was plainly puzzled. "1 can't say for the life of me, sir," was the answer. "I don't know him at all—and yet—" "Whoever he is, by Jove," said Ray, "he's a bigger man this day than Stabber, for he's winning the fight. Now, if he only leads the dash as he does the debate, we can pick him off. Who are our best shots on this front?" and eagerly he scanned the few faces near him. "Webber's tip top and good for anything under 500 yards when he isn't excited, and Stoltz, he's a keen, cool one. No! not you, llogan." laughed the com mander, as a freckled faced veteran popped his head up over a nearby parapet of sand, and grinned his de sire to be included. "I've never seen the time you could hit what you aimed at. Slip out of that hole and find Webber and tell him to come here —and you take his burrow." Where upon llogan, grinning rueful acquies cence in his commander's criticism, slid backwards into the stream bed and, followed by the chaff of the three or four comrades near enough to catch the words, went crouching from post to post in search of the desired marksman. "You used to be pretty sure with thi carbine in the Tonio Basin when we were after Apaches, sergeant eontini'^d Ray, again peering through the glasses. "I'm mistaken in this fellow if he doesn't ride well within range, and we must make an exam ple of liim. I want four first-class shots to single him out." "The lieutenant can beat the best I ever did. sir," said Winsor, with a lift of the hand toward the hat brim, as though in apology, for Field, silent throughout the brief conference, had half risen on his hands and knees and was edging over to the left, ap parently seeking to reach the shelter of a little hummock close to the bank. "Why, surely. Field," was the quick reply, as Ray turned toward his jun ior. "That will make it complete." But a frantic burst of yells and war whoops out at the front put sudden stop to the words. The throng of VUirriors that had prvssed so close about Stabber and the opposing ora tor seemed all in an instant to split asunder, and with trailing war bon net and followed by only two or three of his braves, t,lie former lashed his way westward and swept angrily out of the ruck and went circling away toward the crest, while, with loud acclamation, brandishing shield and lance and rifle in superb barbaric tableau, the warriors lined up in front of the victorious young leader who, sitting high in his stirrups, with one magnificent red arm uplifted, be gan shouting in the sonorous tongue of the Sioux some urgent instruc tions. Down from the distant crest came other braves as though to meet and ask Stabber explanation of his strange quitting the field. Down came a dozen others, young braves mad for battle, eager to join the ranks of this new leader, and Ray, who had turned on Field once more, fixed his glasses on that stalwart, nearly stark naked brilliantly painted form, foremost of the Indian array and now at last in full and unimpeded view. "By. the gods of yrari" he cried. "I ne\er saw that scoundrel before, but if it isn't that renegade Red Fox—Why, here Field! Take my glass and look. You were with the commis sioner's escort last year at the Black Hills council. You must have seen him and heard him speak. Isn't this Red Fox himself?" And to Ray's surprise the young officer's eyes were averted, his face pale and troubled, and the answer was a mere mumble—"I didn't meet Fox—there, captain." He never seemed to see the glass held out to him until Ray almost thrust it into his hand and then per sisted with his inquiry. "Look at him anyhow. You may ha\e seen him somewhere. Isn't that Red Fox?" And now Ray was gazing straight at Field's half hidden face. Field, the soul of frankness hitherto, the lad who was never known to flinch from the ej es of any man, but to answer such challenge with his own—brave, fearless, sometimes even defiant. Now he kept the big binocular fixed on the distant hostile array, but his face was white, his hand unsteady and his an swer, when it came, was in a voice that Ray heard in mingled pain and wonderment. Could it be that the lad was unnerved by the sight? In any event, lie seemed utterly unlike himself. "I cannot say, sir. It was dark— or night at all events—the only time I ever heard him." [To Be Continued.] NOT TOO "SPOONY A. Little Love Episode ot the Boy. liooil Days o£ the Well-Loved I'oet, Wliittier. Poets do not usually err through reticence in fact, some of the most renowned poets are accused of turn ing their emotions too readily into fame and hard cash, and still others are suspected of celebrating their lady-lovers for reasons less of love than of literature and lucre. Even the life-long, unrequited attachment of l'etrarcli to Laura, it is occasion ally insinuated, cost him more ink than heartache, after all, says Youth's Companion. ith Wliittier, gentle, genuine, dig nified and incapable of playing at passion, it was far other wise. In all his poems there is to be found but one allusion to his only grown-up love affair and a recently published letter to Lucy Larcom, when she was editor of Our Young Folks, shows that he even had his doubts about the child poem, "In School Days," so well-known, so well loved and so often recited, in which he told the fleeting idyl of his boy hood. "Dear Friend Lucy. I could not make verses for the pictures, but I send thee herewith a bit, which I am sure is childish, if not childlike. Be honest with it, and if it seems too .spoony for a grave Quaker like my self, don't compromise by printing it. 'When I get a proof I may sec something to mend or mar. Thine truly, J. G. W." Fortunately, the poem was neither marred nor mended Miss Larcom did not consider it as too spoony and wc have preserved in verse the incident of the boyish xioet and his little friend, sweet eleven-year-old Lydia Ayers, who was sorry that she spelt the word that sent lier above him to the head of the class—"Because, you see, I love you!" The manuscript of this poem and the letter with it were sold the other day for $540. This money, with that brought by the sale of other Whittier manuscripts, $10,000 in all, is to be used in maintaining the Whittier homestead, scene of "Snowbound" and birthplace of the poet. WANTED NO WORDS. Taciturn Englishinnn AV ho Believed in Doing Tilings Kutlier Tliaa Talking About Tiieui. "Speech with him," says a recent clever writer, "was a convenience, like a spoon he did not use it of teller than was necessary." She was speaking of a taciturn Englishman. Yankees are usually readier with their tongues, yet once in a while there is a man among them of this same silent kind. Such a one was Reuben J'enks, of Ilentley, says Youth's Companion. One day, when he was passing the farmhouse of a neighbor, he saw smoke and sparks rolling upward in considerable volume, lie knocked and, walking unhurriedly into thc living room, where the family were gathered, remarked, in his usup.l tranquil tone: "Fire." They were rather flutter-bruineo people, and as soon as they realized that the alarm was genuine began to rush about, collecting both val uables and worthless objects with impartial haste. Only one of them thought to ask where the fire was. "Chimney," said Reuben. ".iJoof.'' Just then the eldest soil, a lankv lad, rushed by, carrying an armful of useless things. Reuben's lian-i shot out and seized the boy's collar. The t«-.ish was thrown on the sofa. •'Bucket," said Reuben. Then l\e van ished. The boy got a bucket and went ip to the scuttle, where he found Reu ben already on the ridge-pole with an ax. The girls passed up wafer and the father ran down the road to get help. In a quarter of an hour he re turned with a dozen zealous ftrm hands, bearing pails but as they reached the house a grimly figure slipped from Ihe low eaves to the porch and thence to the ground nodded, wiped the perspiration fron his eyes with a scorched sleeve an remarked, briefly: "Out." of them ours, into a new life, nas helped us? MI The Value of Good Roads By HON. DAVID R. FRANCIS, President of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition. HOPE by having a international good roads convention in connection with the Louisiana Purchase Ex position to increase the interest which is felt in this country and throughout the world in the making of good roads. If any one of you have been in countries where there are good roads, you know how much easier life is there. I can remember when I was living on a farm. The farm was not on a turnpike, but three miles away from it, and if we had been able to devote to tilling the soil and looking after the stock the energy and time wasted in traversing those three miles of dirt road we would have been able to pay fifty times over the interest on the money required to build three miles of good road. It is not only desirable, from the selfish standpoint of material in terest, to have the good roads regardless of their cost, but from the standpoint of our own pleasure, the culture of a community and the en lightenment of the individuals who traverse these roads. It is not only wise, but it is a duty to remove all obstades to advancement which can be so easily removed as bad roads. An amendment to the constitution of the state, to improve the highways by a direct tax upon the people of the entire commonwealth, or to sell the bonded indebtedness of the state to meet the expense, from a commercial standpoint, would be a wise thing to adopt. The interest upon the thousands of dollars that would be required to improve these highways would be a mere bagatelle to the people of Missouri. Suppose $100,000,000 should be invested in the improvement of the public highways of this state and the money raised by the sale of state bonds. These could be floated at 3 per cent. The annual interest upon this debt would be $3,000,000. The assessed value of the property of this state is about $1,250,000,000. Now, in order to raise $3,000,000 per year, a tax of only 25 cents on $100 would be necessary. And what would be the result on the material interests of Missouri? The average increase in the value of lands in Missouri would be at least $5 per acre. The labor that the people of the state now have to expend in order to reach their county seats or to market the products of the forest and the farm would be diminished by one-half. I am not advocating the idea that Missouri or any other state should pursue a policy of this kind. I think the people of the different states are not ready for such a broad plan but I am attempting to demon strate that, from the material standpoint, the standpoint of wise invest ment, it would be advisable, if the roads cannot be improved in any other way, to impose a debt upon the people of the state in order ta improve them. In traveling through Europe in pursuance of official duties, I was impressed with the very superior roadways of that continent. Ours can not be classed with them. They have good roads through France, Ger many, and Belgium, the result is that people from the United States go from their homes to Europe and take with them their automobiles and their teams of horses in order to have the pleasure of riding for a hundred miles or so upon good highways. It is a very ordinary cir cumstance in France or Germany or Belgium to hear of Americans who are starting out upon a tour of 50 or 100 miles in parties of three or four vehicles and twenty to fifty people. They spend large amounts of money in the country through which these tours are taken. What is left there by the tourists who take advantage of these good roads is itself sufficient to pay the interest upon the cost of those roads. Ingratitude of the Successful Man By PROF. EDWARD AMHERST OTT. HERE is no lesson that we need to remind people of more in life than the lesson of gratitude to the means by which they rise. Some one has said that "in gratitude's a weed of every clime," and America cer tainly seems to provide soil in which the weed thrives and spreads. The battle of life is not so easy and none of us fight it alone. The thoughts that we think are few A friend suggests something that opens the doorway but how often do we come back and tell him how he "Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude." —Shakespeare. I wish that our great men would remember their beginnings bet ter. Our rich men, in the time of their prosperity, forget all the bright, sweet things that in the days of their hopes and struggles they had vowed to do. They leave the place where they gained their wealth, the place of their beginnings. Evolution of Ethics By DR. EMIL G. HIRSCH. JEN of future generations will regard with horror and sur- prise the morals of the world of to-day The present gen eration stands aghast at the thought that civilized men should hold their fellow beings in slavery, and the men of future generations will view with equal horror our belief that it is proper to build up large fortunes at the expense of character. They will wonder how it was that at the be ginning of the twentieth century enlightened men in France, Germany and Russia could be prejudiced against other men because they were born of Jewish parents. They will won der why it was that the men of to-day believed that it was right and proper to steal money from the government, and thought it wrong only to be caught at it. Ethics are subject to the law of evolution, even as are life and edu cation and religion. The doctrine of evolution is not opposed to religion, but those who understand the basic truths upon which all religions are founded appreciate the fact that religion itself was built up by a process of evolution. This doctrine is as old as the chapter in the book of Genesis which declared that Noah was "a righteous man in his g**" He phrase, "in his generation," meaning that Noah might^nui .... considered either religious or moral according to the standards of the generations that followed.