Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume], November 02, 1899, Image 6

About Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925

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Story of the Wedding Ring.
1
By BERTHA M. CLAY.
CHAPTER IV.
Another month passed; thei beauty
of the summer deepened, the was
growing ripe in the fields, the crimson
roses" contrasted with the cool, white
lilies, the fruit hung rich and mellow
on the trees, while Isniay Waldron
still looked with longing eyes towards
the world which she wished to enter.
She still gave every thought to the
master passion of her nature. In vain
the ringdoves cooed, and the lark
soared high with its triumphant song;
in vain the flowers bloomed, and her
pretty child stretched out his little
hands to her. She was always think
ing, always dreaming of that possible
future wherein Paul might grow rich,;
and every desire of her heart be grati
fied. ' ' u
She had ceased to wonder about
her mother; all her romantic visions
that she had once woven faded into
obscurity; her life seemed planned
and arranged; nothing could alter it.
She was Paul Waldron’s wife, and she
loved him. She wished for no greater
love than his; but if Paul could give
her wealth, if he could surround her
with the luxury she loved —ah, then
all 'would be well!
Once —and Ismay never forgot it—
she went to the Manor House; there
was a grand fete to be given to the
tenantry, and Paul for the occasion
had put it on, with a flower in her
hair, she looked so lovely that he was
startled at her beauty. She read his
admiration in his eyes.
"You will own,” she said, "that
dress makes some little difference. Ah,
Paul, if I had but jewels and rich
dresses, such as ladies wear!”
“You would not. look more beauti
ful, Ismay. Now you gladden my
heart, then you would gladden other
eyes, and I should not be so happy,
love.”
Ismay never forgot that day. She
looked round the magnificent rooms
—on the pictures, the statues, the
superb hangings, the furniture, the
rare flowers —and her whole heart
ached with longing. She looked on
the faces of the ladles some of them
country lenders of fashion —and she
saw none that could be compared with
her own. She watched the hundred
evidences of wealth and her very
soul seemed on fire with the eagerness
of her wishes.
"Why is there naught for me?” she
said to herself. "Why should others
have money, luxury and splendor,
while I, who am fairer than they,
must pass my life in a lonely cottage,
counting each shilling ns I spend it?”
She saw the glances of admiration
east upon her; she heard one ask
another. "Who is that beautiful girl?”
and her vanity was Muttered. If, so
plainly attired, she could produce this
marked sensation, what would she not
do when magnificently dressed?
In the midst of her excitement and
pleasure she could not refrain from
noticing one thins amongst all the
crowd of men there was not one who
surpassed in appearance her husband
Paul- It was the first time she had
mixed In society, or had seen what Is
commonly called the world. She had
Imagined all those who bore noble
names would carry the Impress of
those names on face and figure. Here
were lords, baronets, and squires, but
she saw amongst them no face more
noble than Paul’s, no figure more man
ly: she heard no voice with so true a
ring, she saw no smile so luminous
and frank.
“He is one of Nature’s noblemen,’’
said (lie young wife to herself, and her
heart grew warm as she looked at him.
She had thought that amongst people
so greatly above him in position he
would perhaps show some m.uivalse
lionte some shy embarrassment or
confusion: hut on his frank, noble
face there was no trace of either.
"There’s somewhat in this world amis*
Shall he unriddled by-and-by,”
sai.l Is’oay to herself, as she watched
him. “if it were not so. Paul would
occupy one of the grand places these
nu n cannot fill so worthily as he."
She saw gentlemen of position talking
to him. seemingly deeply interested in
his conversation. She noticed an
other tiling his love was like a watch
ful presence round her: he never for
got her: he seemed to he always think
ing of her comfort, of what she would
like and again the young wife said to
h#i*elf—
“No one could ever love me as Paul
does.
There came over her a vague kind of
wonder as to what she would
do without his love. She might ns
wadi l>c without food to cat. fresh air
to breathe. Life without Paul’s love!
She smiled to herself at the idea, and
he. watching her from a distance,
came to ask her why she smiled. She
looked with frank, sweet eyes into his
face.
"I was thinking what the world
would be like to me without you,” she
replied, "and I cannot realize it."
“Heaven grant that you never may.
sweet! I shall never know what the
world is without you, for I could not
"Vr*e If I lost you.”
The time came when they both re
membered those words.
So the struggle went on In her
mind—the passionate longing, the
eager wishes, the thirst for pleasure,
the craving for wealth, doing battle
always nvith the love of husband and
child and the spirit of content.
She had longed for fortune, and it
was coming to her; she longed for
powei and position, it was to be hers;
but she was unconscious of it, and
said to herself at times that her life
would be spent in dreams.
One morning she sat in the garden
making a faint pretence at work, but
the needle had fallen, and the white
hands lay listless and still. She sat
under the shade of a large elm-tree,
and the sunbeams falling through
green leaves were like a halo around
her, heightening her marvellous
beauty. She was engrossed in her day
dream of that golden future, when
the little maid-servant came to tell
her that a gentleman wished to see
her.
She rose hastily, a crimson flush on
her fair face. A gentleman to see her!
Who could it be?
Before she had time to ask the ques
tion, she saw a gentleman entering
through the garden-gate. He advanced
towards her and bowed.
"Have I the pleasure of addressing
Mrs* Waldron?” he asked.
He was so different from the people
she ’ had passed her life amongst
that she blushed and hesitated. She
could not help noticing that the
stranger was watching her intently,
and that his eyes lingered on her face
with an interest that was not curi
osity; he was studying every feature
and when she spoke he listened eager
ly to every word.
"I must apologize,” he said, "for in
truding, but the garden-gate was
open, and I saw you here. Time is
very precious with me. I thought you
would pardon me if I followed the
maid.”
She looked at him as though she
would fain ask him who he wu; hut
at that moment the stranger’s gaze
fell on the lovely little boy who v ts
playing on the grass. Suddenly a
change came over his face; he me e a
hurried step, and then stood still.
“Is that your child—your son—Mrs.
Waldron?” he asked, eagerly.
"Yes,” she replied; “that is my
baby boy.”
“I am very fond of children,” said
the stranger; “will you let me nurse
him?” He took the child in his arms,
and looked just as Intently in his face.
“He is a noble boy,” he said, “a
princely child. What is his name.
Mrs. Waldron?” she forgot the ir
regularity of the interview in her de
light at the gentleman's admiration.
"His name is Lionel,” she replied;
"we call him Leo. His father wished
him to take my name, but I would not
consent.”
“Your name must be a peculiar one
i.‘ you could give it to a boy,” he
said; and if Mrs. Waldron had looked
more intently at him. he would have
seen that the subject was one of great
moment to him.
"My name is Ismay,” she said, and
at I he word a strange flash of delight
came over the visitor’s face; and then
that she had not yet heard the reason
Mrs. Waldron seemed to remember
that she had not yet heard the rea
son of his visit.
"Do you wish to see my husband?”
she asked.
"No,” he replied, slowly. “My object
in waiting upon you is to ask your
permission to make a sketch of this
charming little cottage.”
Ismay looked up In delight.
‘ A picture of my home," she said,
"i think there can be no objection.
Are you an artist?”
The visitor smiled a strange, pe
culiar smile.
"Not by profession; but I am fond
of drawing.”
Then slowly, and with great art. he
drew her into conversation. He told
her that he had heard her history and
sympathized with her. He asked her
if she remembered anything of her
life before she came to Ashburnham.
”1 could not possibly remember,”
she replied—“l was hut three years
oM. The only childish memory 1
have is, strange to say, of my mother's
hail* —beautiful brown waving hair —
with which I used to play: her face
comes dimly before me at times. I
remember nothing more.”
“You were three • years old,” he
said: "how do you know that?”
"I have heard Mrs. Hope say so,”
she answered. "When will you *bOgin
the sketch?”
Here It suddenly struck Ismay that
perhaps Paul would not he pleased if
he knew how long this stranger had
been in the garden.
A slow smile spread over his face.
A shrewder woman wo: .1 have
divined at once that he had g >ne there
for an object and that the object was
attained.
“With your permission. Mrs. Wald
ron, 1 will call again and then we
can arrange about the sketch.”
After a few more complimentary
words, the stranger withdraw, leaving
Ismay flattered, yet puzzled. What an
interest he had taken in her! How en
grossed he had been in her story
Sand how pleased he ha<W been with
Leo!
She sat dreaming under the elm-tree
thinking of everything that had been
said, until the ronld came again to In
terrupt her: and then she grew
• ashamed of herself.
I "How much thought I lam giving to
a stranger!” she oaid. "It roust be be
cause I so seldom see one,”
CHAPTER V
Bertram, Lord Carlswood, had the
reputation of being the proudest man
in Engalnd. He was proud of his
name, of his race, of his pedigree—
proud of his unstained honor, of his
large fortune, of his gentle wife, of
his fair children—proud of the re
pute in which he was held, of bis high
standing In the country. Asa river
gathers force and strength from every
tributary stream, so ae made every
gift Heaven had bestowed upon him
tributary to his pride.
People in speaking of him said he
was just and generous, but very
proud. This pride was not shown in
patronage of his equals, but in the
most rigid observances of class dis
tinctions. He never pardoned any
disregard of those distinctions; he was
punctilious in the extreme; he gave to
all persons the honor due to thqm,
and he expected the same in return;
he addressed each one by his right
ful title, and insisted on being so ad
dressed himself. He considered the
Carlswoods of Bralyn among the lead
ing spirits of the country; they had
few equals, no superiors.
"Had the Carlswoods been kings,
they would have known how to reign,”
he was wont to say.
Another of his most frequent sayings
was —
"The Carlswoods were an old family
when William the Norman took pos
session of our fair Saxon land; but
study their records, and you will see
that no Carlswood was ever dis
honored. There has never been a
fortune-hunter, or traitor, or renegade
amongst us; and—thank Heaven!—no
Carlswood ever made a low marriage.”
There were some who said that pride
of such a kind must have a fall—that
it could not remain so arrogant; but
the stately head had not. yet been bent
in humility or sorrow —there was no
stooping of the erect figure, no soften
ing of the haughty face.
Lord Carlswood married the daugh
ter of the Duchess of Middleham, a
gentle, high-bred, elegant woman.
They had four children —three sons
and one daughter. The father’s face
- would glow with pride as he looked
round on the young faces.
“There is no fear of the old race
dying out yet,” he would say.
He loved his wife, he was pmud of
his sons: but the great delight of his
heart —the very light and brightness
of his home—was his daughter Ka
trine, a beautiful, gay, high-spirited
gir!, who had all the Carlswood spirit,
with Us attendant pride. Her father
literally worshipped her. He watched
tier beauty as it developed day by day;
he pleased himself by imagining what
her future would be. What position
could be too exalted for his daughter?
When Katrine reached her tenth
year. Lady Carlswood died. Her hus
band did not marry * again. “The
Oarlswoods never marry twice,” he
said, grandly: and he was true to the
traditions of his race.
It was not a matter of great moment
to the hoys. Little of their time was
spent at isralyn: they went to Eton,
and thence to Oxford: they were left
Principally in the charge of tutors.
Lord Carlswood was careful to Im
press upon them the nobility of their
race and the obligation they were un
der to deep the glory of their name
unsullied and their honor unstained;
lie left the rest to their teachers.
But for Katrine Carlswood her
mother's death was a far more serious
matter. Her father was unwilling to
send her to school; he did not wish
her out of his sight. He had gover
nesses and masters for her; he did his
best for her, but it was lamentably
done. He drew up a code of rules and
regulations which was te be rigidly
adhered to: he made no allowance for
girlish gaiety or exuberance of spirits:
and the result, was that Katrine grew
to look upon home as a prison. She
loved her father because she had suf
ficient intelligence to appreciate his
higher qualities, hut she considered
him to be something like a goaler.
and gloried in evading his rules. The
method of his training was bad; yet
he would never receive advice on the
subject. Experienced matrons would
tell him that change and relaxation
were needful for the girl; he would
draw himself up proudly and sav
"The ladies of the house of Carlswood
are not to he treated after the fashion
of ordinary school-girls.” When the
catastrophe came, no one was sur
prised.
Lord Carlswood had decided that his
daughter should make her debut when
she had reached her nineteenth year;
until then she was to study hard, and
perfect herself in all needful accom
plishments by the help of masters.
He frowned contemptuously when his
friends told him that it was unfair to
treat a girl of eighteen like a child.
None knew how in the after years he
repented of not having followed that
advice. * v *
There was a church at Lynn, and
before her death' Lady Carlswood had
presented the rector with a very fine
organ; moreover she had asked her
husband to set aside n certain sum to
pay for an organist, which he had
cheerfully consented to do. The first
organist employed was an elderly
man. who had a wife and family to
support. A more remunerative en
gagement presented itself, and he
threw up his post. He was succeeded
by a young and very handsome man—
Thornton Cameron, a musician of no
mean skill.
(To be continued.)
HAD PLENTY OF TIME. j
"My grandparents married In lyfste.”
"And did they repent at leisure?”
"Oh. yes. both lived to be over\9o."
Tit-Bits. I
k NEW KIND OF WHEAT.
| •
About Twenty limes as Productive is
the Old.
Undoubtedly the most valuable
piece of wheat raised In the United
States this year was that produced on
a little plat of ground in Scpttsburg,
Ind. It was raised by E. P. McCaslin
scientific farmer and experimenter.
One thousand dollars for a few
handfuls of wheat seems a prodigious
price, yet that is the valuation of the
wheat, if indeed it can be valued at all.
One-half interest in the total yield of
It, which was only eleven pounds, sold
for SSOO. This amount was paid by .1
wealthy Tennesseean after a personal
inspection of the wheat while growing
under an agreement to furnish addi
tional capital sufficient to raise the
wheat on a large scale. Mr. McCaslin
received many handsome offers for the
entire crop, including one of SI,OOO
cash, but he refused to sell at any
price.
This remarkable wheat is an acci
dental hybrid, being a cross between
the Genesee Giant and the Fultz, and
Mr. McCaslin has given it the name
Hoosier Giant. The Hoosier Giant is
a square, smooth-bearded wheat, with
a pearly red berry, partaking more
strongly of the propeities of the Fultz
than of the Genesee.
The distinctive and valuable feature
of this wheat Is its wonderful
stooling capacity, which is beyond
comparison with any other variety
known. In this respect, it is unlike
either of its genitors. Its great prac
tical value in wheat raising may be
j easily comprehended when it is known
| that one-sixth of the amount of seed
wheat usually will raise three or four
times as much wheat as other varieties
on the same amount of ground.
Remarkable as it may seem, individ
ual grains of this wheat produced as
high as ninety-five stalks. From this
number it ranged downward t)
twenty-five stalks, giving each hill a
veritable bushlike appearance.
Nor is this prolific growth produced
at the expense of the berry, either in
quantity or quality. No imperfectly
developed heads or grains are found,
the yield of each stalk being full and
perfect. Its hard, pearly and trans
lucent berry makes it perfect wheat in
every respect for commercial purposes.
This wheat was sown at the rate of
ten pounds an acre, or one bushel to
every six acres, while the usual rate
is from one to one and one-half bush
els an acre. The entire stock of seed
consisted of five-eighths of an ounce,
which planted in a plat of ground 6 by
27 feet, rows 11 inches apart, and one
grain for every four inches.
Rain and fog during the blooming
period, which caused a light yield of
wheat over southern Indiana, also
operated against the Hoosier Giant,
yet the plat yielded at the rate of
forty-four bushels per acre, producing
eleven pounds at harvest. Individual
rows showed yields running from
thirty-eight to sixty-eight bushels per
acre. Mr. McCaslin has no hesitation
in saying that the wheat is capable of
producing from eighty to 100 bushels
to the acre, with proper care and pro
pitious weather.
The stooling quality of this wheat
enables it to winter well. It has a
rank stalk, and has a habit peculiar to
bearded Russian wheats —that of lying
flat upon the ground like moss as soon
as up.
While growing this wneat attracted
the widest attention. Agricultural
men from all parts of the state, and
from other states as well, came to see
it. Hundreds of local farmers viewed
it, but none had ever seen similar
wheat.
For weeks before harvest Mr. Mc-
Caslin employed boys to guard It from
sunrise to sunset against the attacks
of birds.
THROUGH THE SOUTH SEA3. 1
Idyllic Journey Recently Enjoyed by
Western Woman.
Ever since Charles Warren Stoddard
wrote his delightful south sea idyls
the charm of the journey has induced
many travelers to try its fascinations.
Mrs. A. A. D'Ancona, wife of a physi
cian of San Francisco, has just added
such a delightful chapter to her ex
periences. She made a trip to the
south sea islands on the Tropic Bird,
which returned to port on Tuesday
last. This voyage has given Mrs.
d’Ancona a book full of the most en
tertaining notes and cabinets of rare
things. She is a wide-awake traveler,
saw things with intelligent and alert
eyes and has the rare faculty of being
able to tell all about it in graphic nar
rative. She entered into the very
spirit of the country, dressed like the
natives during her stay among them
and got more out of her weeks there
tli an others have out of years. The
voyage, she says, from the time the
ship left San Francisco until she drop
ped anchor again in the home port was
like a sail upon a still pond. Through
the balmiest of days the Tropic Bird
slipped down to the islands in thirty
one days, but the return trip, because
the winds were fickle and would not
blow except in zephyrs, took thirteen
days longer. Mrs. d’Aneona enters a
protest against every book that has
been written about these far-away is
lands. She says that they do no* give
the reader even a suggestion of these
happy isles, where no one is busy,
where the natives 101 l while the food
comes gratutiously or drift about on
the clearest of water on fishing excur
sions.
Mrs. d’Ancona was surprised to find
that her fellow passengers on the
down trip were Mormon missionaries.
She says that she had heard that they
were quietly going to the furthermost
corners of the earth, but she was not
prepared to find them looking for con
verts -amonfe the contended natives of
the tropics.
The first stop of tire Tropic Bird
was at Taiohae in the Marquesas
group. A short stay there showed a
people far less interesting than those
of the Society islands. They are the
ones who make thj drink abundantly
of the toddies prepared from a dis
tillation of the ed*Knut. “From this
least hospitable-ibqjklng of all the
islands,” said Mrs. d’Ancona, “comes
the dreamy sail through the eighty
six islands. The first glimpse
of them looks as if some great palm
fans were drifting in midocean. Com
ing nearer, trees begin to take shape,
and one would have to land to be
quite certain that the great palms
were not growing directly from the
water. On many of the islands the
highest point above the sea level is
but twelve feet, and the very highest
of all is but eighty feet. They are
just gardens in the ocean. Upon one
of them it is estimated that there are
more than 3,000,000 cocoanut palms ”
From the Paumotu islands Mrs. d’An
cona brings some rare shells and a
beautiful pearl. The longest stay
was at Tahiti, where Mrs. d’Ancona
dressed like the natives and went
among them. She journeyed far into
the country from the main settlement
am! found the natives, whenever they
could, reverting to their original grass
dresses and interesting ways of liv
ing.
EDISON’S AUTOMOBILE.
An Electric Motor That a Child Can
Manage.
Thomas A. Edison is at work on an
automobile which, he says, will trans
cend in utility any machine of the sort
that has yet been produced.
Of course, being an Edison produc
tion, the new marvel will be run by
electricity.
Though the wizard will not now
make public the full plans of his
latest creation, he gave some of the
details of it to a Journal reporter, who
found him in his workshop.
"My experiments are practically
completed,” said Mr. Edison, “and
within a few weeks we will have motor
bicycles and tricycles on the roads
hereabouts. I have been working on
the motor for six months, and it now
fulfills all my expectations.
“The French naphtha machines will
not be in the same class with mine,
and the inventors will hang their
heads with disgust when the one
which is now being completed is
I laced beside those of French make.
“The mechanism of my machine is
far more practical; it is greatly con
densed, the clumsy appearance will be
done away with and the whole affair
will be lighter.
“Will it take a person experienced
in electricity to run your machine?”
asked the Journal man.
“Not at all,” exclaimed the great in
ventor. “Anybody can run it with
out the slightest danger. A child
will be just as safe on the seat as he
is on the common bicycle or tricycle.”
The controversy in regard to the
speed of the French and American
automobiles and the proposed inter
national race had directed r?ie atten
tion of the great inventor to the pro
blem of long distance traveling, and
he positively asserts that when com
pleted his machine will have a running
capacity of from twelve to fourteen
miles an hour, and that the motive
power would last to travel 150 miles
without re-charging.
“As the demand increases,” he con
tinued, “am should my vehicles prove
the success’! anticipate, I will either
build a factory for their manufacture
or sell out my right to some bicycle
concern.” i£
The very fact that Thomas A. Edi
son is getting out a horseless vehicle
will attract attention to the new
mode of progression and will lay the
spooks of danger and difficulty that
people who have not looked into the
new vehicle worry so much about.
When Edison says an automobile is
at' non-explosive as a church and so
easy to handle that a* 10-year-old child
can manage it as well as an . engineer,
there is no longer any reason to doubt
that the roads of the future belong to
the horseless vehicle.
He promises an electric runabout,
such as a country doctor would use,
for from S3OO to s4oo—hardly more
than a good single buggy and fair
horse cost at present. He has cut
the weight of the machine down to a
figure the reverse of alarming, and has
carried the automatic principle so far
that the process of running the vehicle
is less difficult than driving a gentle
horse.
To use his own words:
‘‘The autoinomle will displace
horses in a few years in every class of
work. Our roads are now suitable for
their usage. Horses for families are
only for the rich, and when a demand
comes for the automobile they will
bt cheaper, and the expense of keeping
them in order will be about one-fifth
that of keeping a horse.”
As to the cost, Mr. Edison said that
when the general demand came, the
price of a two-seated vehicle would be
brought down to the cost of a good
team of horses, and that a one-seat
buggy, complete, he said, would be
bought for from S3OO to S4OO.
Edison, in discussing the proposed
international race, said to the Jour
nal that Charron could not bring his
French-built machine over the road
from Chicago to New York.
“Why," continued Mr. Edison, “the
French machine would go to pieces on
our roads, or at least on the roads
which would have to be traveled over
on the course, and the Frenchman
would find that his machine, which is
practicable on the nice, smooth "Oftds
in France, would get stuck in the mud
before reaching its destination. Air
would be shaken to pieces by coming
in contact with the bowlders in the
roads.- •
“WhaLUknow of our automobiles is
that built in accordance with
the roadster which they are made to
“It is jtjSRKSs to a few months ago,”
said the French vehicles
were far a’hetfu "Of any manufactured
in America, but tre are andJjave been
making wide strides in the ttdvance
ment of the automobiles the
past six months, and today areMttlng
cut a more practicable machine than
the Frenchmen ever thought Wf, or
ever can put out. and in the next six
months America wRI be ahead of the
world in the manufacture of the ma
chines, as American engineers are ex
ercising their
and fropi present indications 90 per
cent, bf the horses now in use wil l be
replaced by this late invention in the
next year and a half.
“From what I read of Mr. Winton’s
machine, he has a good one, and before
the race Is finished the Frenchman
will find himself and machine stuck in
the mud along the road, while Mr.
Winton, with his American Ideas, will
be speeding merrily along toward the
Journal office.”
The reason Charron’s machine can
not compete on American roads has
already been elaborately set forth In
the Journal. In the first place, the
weight is so great that it will sink
the wheels to the hubs in the soft
roadways. The wooden-spoked wheels
will bog down in the sand and the
dust flying into the unprotected bear
ings of the Fionch machine will cause
more trouble.
Another fatal defect in Charron’s
vehicle, and as far as traffic on ordi
nary country roads is concerned, Is
that the motor, the heaviest part of
the automobile, is forward, immedi
ately above the front axle.
A.ny farmer’s boy, accustomed to the
ruts and bowlders in the pike that
leads to the market town, knows too
much to put a heavy load in the front
end of his wagon. Speed with a ve
hicle thus unbalanced is utterly out of
(he question, and anybody 'trjungßf'
make it is, in road talk, "riding foS
fall.”
Charron, if he attempted to ride/at
any such speed as he made when he
ran the recent automobile race from
Bordereaux to Paris, would either up
set or knock his vehicle to pieces.
With automobile cabs taking care of
the street passenger traffic, private
automobile carriages thronging the
boulevards and park drives—for the
prohibition against their appearance
in the Central is only a passing phase
of the great change—and auto-trucks
doing all the express and cartage
work, the streets of New York five
years hence will be very different
from what they are now.
One of the big brewing companies
is considering the feasibility of retir
ing the magnificent Norman draught
horses and Percherons that have drag
ged the huge beer wagons about the
city and substituting automobile
trucks for them.
A big contractor is figuring on the
relative cost of locomotive carts as
against the carts and horses he has to
ure now.
An effort will be made shortly to
substitute another adoption of the
automobile principle for the dump
carts now in use by the city.
There seems no branch or character
of traction for which the automobile
is not clamoring for adoption. At the
automobile show now in progress at
the Tuileries gardens, in Paris, there
was a prize for a race among voitur
ettes driven by children.
Any child old enough to drive a
.Shetland pony is old enough to run one
of the baby automobiles, and the child
ren of several of the great families of
the capital of France run their toy
like voiturettes in the park every
afternoon.
Every day sees a wider spread of the
•automobile in America. An automo
bile cab company is organizing in
Chicago, where an auto-truck company
is already under way.—New York
Journal.
DUSK.
The frightened herds of clouds across
the sky
Trample the sunshine down, and
chase the day
Into the dusky forest lands of grav
And somber twilight. Far, and faint
and high.
The wild goose trails his barrow with
a cry
Sad as the wail of some poor cast
away
f ee * a vessel lifting fir astray
to die ° Pe ' aDd la> ’ a hi:Tl dow "
The children, riotous from school
grow bold, ° Ol ,
And quarrel with the wind whose
angry gust ose
PIUCk the ff fol h d e SUmmer hat 3nd fla P s
° f 1he y dust rim3 ° n Cl ° ak ’ aad twlrls
In spiral shapes grotesque, and dims
the gold
Of gleaming tresses with the blur nt
rust.
—James Whitcomb Riley.
NO CHANCE FOR ARGUMENT.
“Have you made up your mind what
college you will send your boy to?”
“Oh. yes. That’s all sett’ed.”
“What one is it?”
n ,,a\v. at n,dn 1 three boat ra ces
and the baseball championship all g 0
to one institution this year? ,vhat one?
bay. you amuse me with vour fool
questions. ’
■ r ” s< ; P . h **■ Douglass tie colored
’.lollnlst and owner cf the SI,OOO Amatl
Twi' 1* a f ran<l '" D of Frederick
>*ntglass, and is to spend ive years
mnr# in mnstudy in Itely.