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4: MG! MENS CHILDREN
X wi jfinrGtRAIJXME' BONNER £. I 1 / /A HONEEf(' TANGLE,*^ DOMJ.LWIM 1? SYNOPSIS. BUI Cannon, the bonanza king, and his daughter. Rose, who had passed up Mrs. Cornelius Ryan's ball at San Francisco to accompany her father, arrive at Antelope. Dominick Ryan calls on his mother to beg a ball Invitation for his wife, and is refused. The determined old lady refuses to recognize her daughter-in-law. Dom inick had been trapped Into a marriage with Bernice Iverson, a stenographer, several years his senior. She squanders his money they have frequent quarrels, and no slips away. Cannon and his daughter are snowed in at Antelope. Dominick Ryan Is rescued from storm In uncon scious condition and brought to Antelope hotel. Antelope is cut off by storm. Rose Cannon nurses Dominick back to life, two weeks late/ Bernice discovers In a paper where husband is and writes letter trying to smooth over difficulties between them. Dominick at las* is able to Join fellow snowbound prisoners in hotel par lor. He loses temper over talk of Buford, an actor. After three weeks, end of im prisonment is seen. Telegrams and mall arrive. Dominick gets letter from wife. Tells Rose he doesn’t love wife, and never did. Stormbound people begin to depart. Rose and Dominick embrace, father sees them and demands an explanation. Rose's brother Gene Is made manager of ranch, and Is to get It If he stays sober a year. Cannon expresses sympathy for Domi nick's position in talk with Rose. Domi nick returns home. Berny exerts herself to please him, but he is indifferent. Can non calls on Mrs. Ryan. They discuss Dominick’s marriage difficulties, and Can non suggests buying off Berny. Dominick goes to park on Sunday with Berny and family, sees Miss Cannon, bows to her and starts uneasiness in Berny. In Mrs. Ryan's name Cannon offers Berny $50,000 to leave her husband and permit divorce. She refuses. Dominick sees Rose. Cor nelia Ryan engaged to Jack Duffy. Can non offers Dernv SIOO,OOO and is turned down. Berny tells sisters of offer. Bu ford, the actor, makes a hit In vaudeville. Ritse tells Dominick that he must stick to wife, and first time acknowledges that she loves him. Cannon offers Be/nv $300.- 000 which she refuses, saying Cannon wants Dominick for Rose. Gene w r ins the ranch. Berny accuses Rose of trying to steal her husband and tells her of the of fered bribe. Rose tells father what she learned abbut the attempt to bribe Rerny and declares that she would never marry Dominick, should he ever be divorced. Kx acts promise from father to let Bernv alone. Stranger sees Berny in restaurant, apparently recognizes her. and follows her home. The stranger, who is Buford, 'he actor, calls on Dominick CHAPTER XX.—Continued. A moment later, Buford entered, smiling, almost patronizingly urbane and benign. He was dressed with a rich and careful elegance which gave him a somewhat dandified air. After bestowing upon Dominick greetings that sounded as unctuous as a bene diction he took his seat at the end of ♦he cozy corner facing the door which led into the hall. From here he looked at the young man with a close, atten tive scrutiny, very friendly and yet holding, under its enfolding blandness, something of absence, of inattention, as though his mind were not in the intimate customary connection with the words that issued from his lips. This suggestion of absence deepened, showed more plainly in an eye that wandered to the door, or, as Dominick spoke, fell to the carpet and remained there, hidden by a down-drawn bush of eyebrow. Dominick was in the middle of a query as to the continued success of the “Klondike Monologue’’ when the actor raised his head and said politely, but with a politeness that contained a note of haste and eagerness beneath it: “Is Madame at home?” “No, she’s not at home,” said Mad ame’s husband. “But she may bo in any moment now. She generally goes j out for the afternoon and gets back a! out this time.” ‘ Perhaps you can tell me,” said Bu- j ford, looking sidewise at his gloves and cane as they lay on the end of the divan, ‘who—you’ll pardon my seeming curiosity, but I’ll explain it presently--who was the ltdy that came in here last night at about half past seven?” He looked up and Dominick was suddenly aware that his face was charged with the tensest, the most \ital interest. Thrust forward, it showed a hungriness of anticipation that was almost passionate. The young man was not only surprised at the expression but at the question. “I haven’t an idea,” he said. ”1 wasn’t at home to dinner last night, ! and didn't get in till late. Why do you want to know? ’ "For many reasons, or for one, per- ! haps—for one exceedingly important | reason.” He paused, his eyes again turned slantingly on the prick and gloves, his lips tight-pressed, one against the other. “How did you know any woman came In here last night at that hour? Did you come up to call?” asked Dom inick. “No—no—” the other spoke with quick impatience evidently from the surface of his mind, “no. It was—at first, anyway—purely accidental. I saw th 9 woman—and—and —afterward I saw her enter here. Mr. Ryan,” he said suddenly, looking at hts vis-a-vis with piercing directness and .speaking with an intensity of urgency that was almost a command, “can you give me half an hour of your time and your full attention? I want to speak to you of a matter, that to me, at least. Is of great —the greatest—importance. You can help me; at least you can, I hope, throw some light on 5, hat is a dark subject. Have I your permission to talk freely to you. freely and at length?" Dominick, who was beginning to ! feel as If he were in a play, and was exceedingly surprised and intrigued, nodded, remarking: “Why, certainly, go on. If I can be of any help to you or explain any j thing for you. nothing would give me greater pleasure. Let me hear what j it is.” The actor dropped hia glance to the floor for what seemed an anxiously considering moment, then he raised his head and. looking directly at his host, said: "You may remember that, while at j Antelope. 1 once spoke to you of hav j ing been married —of having, in fact. I been unfortunate enough to lose ray wife.” Dominick remembered, but It seem ed imperfectly, for he said in a doubt- i FAILED TO CARRY OFF DOG; Bit Eagle Likely Would Have Con quered If Farmer Had Not Tak en Part of Pet. From Shldzuoka comes a graphic account of a bloody combat between an eagle and a dog. A few days ago, at about S a. m., while one Ano was engaged in farming at the foot of a hill called Awagatabe in a suburb of Shidzuoka. he saw his favorite deg ftciuuper away In unusual exqUetnent. ful tone, which had more than a sug gestion of questioning: "She —er —she died?” “No." said the other, “she did not die. I lost her in a way that I think was more painful than death. She left me, voluntarily, of her own free will.” “Oh, of course,” said the young man hastily. “I remember perfectly, one day by the sitting-room fire. I remem ber it all as clearly as possible now.” That was the time—the only time I mentioned the subject to you. On another occasion I spoke to that lovely and agreeable young lady, Miss Can non, on the matter, and told her more fully of my domestic sorrows. But to you I made but that one allusion. May I now, more at length, tell you of the misfortunes—l may say trag edy—of my married life?” Dominick, mystified, nodded his head. He could not imagine why Bu ford should come to him at this par ticular moment and in this particular ly theatrical manner with the history of his domestic troubles. But he was undeniably interested, and feeling him self more than ever like a character in a play, said: “Go on, tell me anything you like. And if in any way I can be of use to you, I’ll be only too happy to do it ” Looking at the carpet, a heat of in ward excitement showing through the professional pomposity of his manner, Buford began slowly and solemnly: “I’ll go back to- seven years ago, when I was in Chicago. Previous to that, Mr. Ryan, I will tell you in confi dence I had been a preacher, a Meth odist, oi good reputation, though. I am fain to confess, of small standing in the church. I left that esteemed body as I felt there were certain ten ets of the faith I could not hold to. I am nothing if not honest, and 1 was too honest to preach doctrines with all of which I could not agree. I left the church as a pastor though I have never deserted it as a disciple, and have striven to live up to its stand ards.” He paused, and Dominick, feeling that he spoke sincerely, sad: “That was the only thing to do.” “So It seemed to me. I left the town where I was living and moved to Chicago where, through the influ ences of a friend, I obtained a posi tion in a school of acting and elocu tion. 1 instructed the pupils in voice production. You may have noticed that I have an unusually deep and res onant voice. 'Through that, I obtained this work and received the stipend of thirty-five dollars a week. It was fair ly good pay, the hours were not too long, there was no demand made of a sacrifice of conscience, and I confess that I felt much freer and more con tented than I had in the church. “It was at this stage of my career that I met the lady who became my wife. We lived at the same boarding house—Mrs. Heeney’si, a most ele gant, well-kept place, and Mrs. Heeney a lovely woman of one of the best southern families. It was at her table “Then the Woman You Saw Here Laet Night Waa Your Wife?” that 1 met the girl who was destined to have such a fatal influence on my life. She was a stenographer and typewriter in one of the largest firms in the city, earning her twenty dollars a week, as she was an expert and not to be beaten in the state. She was very pretty, the brunette type of beauty, black-eyed, and as smart as a steel trap. She was as dainty as a pink, always wel'-dressed and up-to jate. and never anything sloppy or slouchy about her. Ask her to go to the theater and theie wouldn't be 3 woman in the bouse who could beat her for looks and style. Besides that, she was a fine conversationalist, could talk as easily as a book on any sub ject. If I brought her a novel, 6he'd The farmer, struck with curiosity, fol lowed in the direction in which the dog ran and was amazed to see the an imal Jumping about, and barking fu riously in a thicket near the bottom of a large pine tree. On closer scrutiny he found the dog was waging a savage battle with * large eagle nearly five feet in height The bird would descend upon the dog and attack it with its powerful talona, while the deg would spring away al ertly. trying to bite its enemy. The exeitin* oonhat continued for some read It ar.d have the whole plot at her finger-ends, and be able to talk it all over, have her own opinions about every character. Oh, she was an accomplished, fascinating woman, if I say it myself! Any man might have taken to her. She was for ever telling me about California, and how she wanted to get back there —” “California?” interrupted Dominick. "Did she come from California?" “From here—from San Francisco She was a native daughter of the state and the town. I wa3 interested in Cal ifornia myself at that time, though I’d never seen it, and we’d talk of that and other things till, bit by bit. we drifted nearer and nearer together and the day came when we were en gaged. I thought that was the happi est day of my life, and it would have been If she’d stayed true to her promises ” The clock struck the single silvery note of the half-hour and Dominick heard it. He was interested in the story, but he had only another half hour to give, and said as Buford paused: “Go on. It's very interesting. Don’t stop.” “The first step in our married life that seemed to me strange, that cast, not what you’d call a cloud, but a shadow, over my happiness, was that she insisted on keeping the marriage secret. She had several reasons, all of which seemed good and sufficient to her. She said her people would not like her marrying a stranger far away from home, and that they'd cut up very ugly when they heard it. Her principal reason, and the only one that seemed to me to have any force, was that "lie feared she’d lose her job. She had it on good authority that the firm where she worked wouldn’t employ married women, and if they knew she’d got a husband who was making a fair salary, they’d give her the sack. Whether it was for all the reasons together, or for just this one I don’t know, but she’d only marry me if I’d solemnly promise to keep the matter secret. I'd have promised her anything. She'd out and out be witched me. “So we were married and went to housekeeping in a little flat in a sub urb. We had our mail sent to our old address at Mrs. Heeney’s. She was in the secret, the only person who was. We had to let her know because of the letters, and Inquiries that might hav-o been made for us from time to time. We were married in the winter, and that winter was the hap piest time of my life. I'll never for get It. That little flat, and that little black-eyed woman—they were just Paradise and the angel in It for me. Not but what she had her faults; she was hot-tempered, quick to flare up, and sharp with her tongue. But I never cared—just let her sputter and fizz till she'd worked it all off and then I’d take things up iwhere they were before the eruptions began. It was a happy time —a man in love and a woman that keeps him loving—you can’t beat it this side of Heaven.” Dominick made no answer. The actor for a moment was silent and then with a sigh went on. “I suppose it was too good to last. Anyway, it ended. We’d lived that way for six months when in the be ginning of June the Dramatic School failed and I lost my job. It came on us with almost no warning, and it sort of knocked us out for a bit. I wasn’t as upset by it as Mrs. Carter wp.., but she —” ‘Who's Mrs. Carter?” said Domi nick. “My wife. That’s my name, Junius Carter. Of course the name I use on the stage is not my own. I took that in the Klondike, made It up from my mother's and the name of a pard I had who died. Well, as I was saying, Mrs. Carter took it hard. She couldn't I seem to get reconciled to It I tried | to brace her up and told her It would only be temporary, and I’d get an | other place soon, but she was terribly ; upset. We’d lived well, not saved a | cent, furnished the flat nioely and kept a servant. There was nothing for it but to live on what she made. ! It was hard on her, but I’ve often thought she might have been easier on me. I didn't want to be idl* or eat the bread she paid for. Lord knows! I tried hard enough to get work. I tramped those streets in sun and rain ; till the shoes were falling off my feec ! time, but at last threatened to end in the defeat of the dog. The farmer fetched a hatchet and rushed to the succor of his pet, rain ; ing upon the eagle repeated blows. The dog, encouraged by this help, at i tacked its antagonist with redoubled ' rigor and after a while the eagle fell , to the ground quite exhausted and j covered with blood. Ano took the cap tive home In triumph and has since been keeping it in his house. The eagle proved to be of enormous size and is said to be attracting great But the times were hard, money was tight, and 'good jobs were not to be had for the asking. One of the worst features of the case was that I hadn't any regular line of work or profession. The hind of thing I’d v "en doing don’t fit. a man for any kind of job. If I couldn’t do my own kind of stunt I’d have to be just a general bandy-man or stevedore, apd I’m not what you’d call rugged. “It was an awful summer! The heat was fierce. Our little flat was like an oven and, after my long day’s tramp after work, I used to go home j f ust dead beat aiid lie on the lounge and not say a word. My wife was worn out. She wasn’t accustomed to warm weather, and that and the wor ry and the hard work sort of wore on her, and these were evenings when she’d slash round so with her tongue that I’d get up, half dead as I was, and go out and sit on the door-step till she’d gone to bed. I’m not blaming her. She had enough to try her. Working at her machine all day In that weather would wear anybody’s temper to a frazzle. But she said some things to me that bit pretty deep. It seemed impossible it could be the same woman I’d got to know so well at Mrs. Heeney's. We were both just about used up, thin as fiddle strings, and like fiddle-strings ready to snap at a touch. Seems queer to think that thirty-five dollars a week could make such a difference! With it we were in Paradise; without It we were as near the other place as people can get, I guess. “Well, it was too much for her. She was one of those women nnc can’t stand hardships and she couldn’. make out in she position she was in. Love wasn’t enough for her, there had to be luxury and comfort, too. Cne day I came home and she was gone. No,” in answer to a look of inquiry on Dom iniek’s face, "there was tic other man She wasn't that kind, always as straight as a string. No, she just couldn’t stand the grind any longer. She left a letter in which she said some pretty hard things to me, but I've tMed to forget and not bear mal ice. It was a woman half crazy with heat and nerves and overwork that wrote them. The gist of it was that she’d gone back to California, to her sisters who lived there, and she was not coming back. She didn’t like it— marriage, or me, or Chicago. She was just going to throw the whole busi ness overboard. She told me if I fol lowed her or tried to hold her, 3he’d disappear, hinted that she’d kill her self. That was enough for me. God knows if she didn’t want me I wasn’t going to force myself upon her. And, anyway, she knew fast enough I couldn’t follow her. I hadn’t money to have my shoes patched, much less buy a ticket to California. “After that there were some dark days for me. Deserted, with no moa- ( n |i “Keep Away From Me,” She Cried Hoarsely. ey, with no work, and no prespects— I tell you that's the time the iron goes down into a man’s soul. I didn't know what was going to become of me, and I didn’t care. One day on the street I met an old chum of mine, a fellow called Defay, that I hadn’t seen for years. He was going to the Klondike, and when he heard my hard-luck story, he proposed to me to Join forces and go along with him. I jumped at It, anylliing to get away from that town and state that was hunted with memo ries of her. “It was just the beginning of the gold rush and we went up there and stayed for two years. Defay was one of the finest men I ever knew. 'Life’s all ex tremes and contrasts; there’s a sort of balance to It If you come to look close Into It. I'd had an experience with the kind of a woman that breaks a man’s heart as you might a pipe stem, then I ran up against the kind of man that gives you back your be lief in human nature. He died of ty phoid a year and a half after we got there. I had It first and nearly died; in fact, the rumor went out that It was I that was dead and not Def&y. As I changed my name and went on the stage soon afterward It was natural enough for people to say Junius Car ter was dead. "I was pretty near starving when I drifted on the stage. I had learned some conjuring tricks, and that and my voice took me there. I just about made a living for a year, and then I floated back down here. I never played in San Francisco till now. I acted on the western circuits, used to go as far East as Denver and Kansas City, and then swing round and the circle through the northwestern cities and curiosity among the villagers.—Japan Advertiser. Height Too Much for Birds. John Muir says that among the larg er birds of the Yosemite valley are geese and eagles, and the former are often deceived in the height of the valley walls, rising to considerable height, only to find that the task is beyond them and then descending with loud screams. They are strong of wind and limb, but starting from the bottom they cannot reach the top. Salt Like. I managed to make a liv ing and no more. I was east in parts ihat didn't suit me. The Klondike Monologue was the first thing 1 did that was in my line." Did you ne\er see or hear of your wife?’’ Not a word. I didn't know whether she was dead or living till last night.’’ Buford raised his eyes and looked piercingly into the young man’s face. Dominick forgot the time, his engage ment, Berny s anticipated entrance. He drew himself up i n his chair and sai<3 in a loud, astonished voice: Last night? Then the woman you saw here last night was your wife?" The actor gravely inclined his head. I saw my wife," he said solemnly, last night at Deledda’s restaurant. It was entirely by accident. I liked the Mexican cooking and had been more than once to that place. Last night I was about to enter the back part of the restaurant when I saw her sitting there alone in the corner. For a moment I could not believe my eyes. I got behind a lace curtain and watch ed her. She was changed, but It was she. I heard her speak to the waiter and if I’d never seen her face I’d have known the voice among a thousand. She’d grown stouter and 1 think even prettier, and she looked as If she were prosperous. She was well dressed and her hands were covered with rings. When she went out 1 followed her and she came straight here from the restaurant and rang the bell and came in.” “Are you sure she didn’t go Into one of the other flats? There are four in the building." “No, she came in here. I compared the number on the transom with the address you’d given me on the card!” “What, an extraordinary thing!” said Dominick. “It's evidently some one my wife knows who came to see her that evening, probably to keep her company while I was out. But 1 can't think who It could be.” He tried to run over in his mind which one of Berny’s acquaintances the description might fit and could think of no one. Probably it was some friend of her working-girl days, who had dropped out of her life and now, guided by Fate, had unexpectedly reappeared. “It’s certainly a remarkable coin cidence,” he went on, “that she should have come to this flat, one of the few places in the city where you know the people. If she’d gone to any of the other —" A ring at the bell stopped him. “There!” he said, “that’s Mrs. Ryan. Now we’ll hear who It was.” For a moment they both sat silent, listening, the actor with his face looking sharp and pale in the sus pense of the moment, the muscles of his lean cheeks working. The rustle of Berny’s dress sounded from the stairway and grew in volume as she slowly ascended. The two men rose to their feet. “Come In the den for a moment, Berny." Dominick called. “There's a gentleman here who wants to see you." The rustle advanced up the hull, and the portiere was drawn back. Bernice, brilliantly dressed, a mauve orchid pinned on her bosom, stood in the aperture, smiling. Buford’s back was against the light, and, for the first moment she only saw him as a tall masculine out line and her smile was frank and natural. But he saw her plain as a picture and before Dominick could frame the words of introduction, start ed forward, crying: “Bernice Iverson!" She drew back as if struck and made a movement to drag the portiere over her. Her face went white to the lips, the patches of rouge standing out on her cheeks like rose-leaves pasted on the sickly skin. “Who —who's that?" she stammer ed. turning a wild eye on Dominick. “Mr. Ryan.” the actor cried, beside himself with excitement, “this is my wife! This s3 the woman I’ve been talking of! Bernice, don’t you know me? Junius Carter?” “He’s crazy.” she faltered, her lips so loose and tremulous they could hardly form the words. “I never saw him before I don’t know what he’s talking Shout. Who’s Junius Carter?" “This is my wife. Mr. Buford,” said Dominick, who had been staring from one to the other In blank astonish ment. “We've been married nearly , three years. I don’t understand—” | "It's Bernice Iverson, the girl I mar- Modem Mariana. , "A hundred years ago, marriage was for an intelligent woman a necessary entrance into life, a legitimate method of carrying out her ideas and her aims. Today she tries to carry them out whether she be married or not. | . . . Mariana no longer waits tear j fully in the Moated Grange. She ! leaves It as qnickly as possible for ; some more healthful habitation, and a , more engaging pursuit.” “So bachelor ever wants to act like a nTarried man, because he doesn’t ried in.Chicaeo. thet Ft* *)een telling you about, that I taw fast night a; the Mexican restaurant. Why, £he can't deny it. She can’t look at me and say she doesn t kEow me—Junius Carter, the man she married in the Methodist chapel, seven years ago, in Chicago. Bernice ” He approached her and she shrank back “Keep away from me,” she cned hoarsely, stretching ou* a trembling hand. “I don’t know what you're talk ing about. You’re crazy. Junius Car ter’s dead —” then suddenly turning on Dominick with a b!nzing look of fury—“lt’s you that have done this! It’s you, you snake! I’ll be even with you yet! 1 ’ She tore, herself out nf the folds of the portiere which she had clutched to her and rushed into the hall and into her own room. The banging ol the door behind her shook the house. The two men sto-d as she had left them, staring at ead\ other, not know ing whet to n<~y. speechless and aghast. CHAPTER XXI. The Last Interview. The night was falling when Buford left. He and Dominick had sat on !■ the den, talking together in low voices going over past events In the concat enation of circumstances that had led up to the extraordinary situation in which they now found themselves Both listened with strained ears foi the opening of Bernice's door, but not a sound came from her room. Eack silently, * without expressing hii thoughts to the other, wondered what she would do, what sensational movt might now be expected of her. Whll* they talked, It was evident she in tended to make no sign of life. After Buford had left. Dominicl called up his friend on the telephom telling him that he would be unabl to meet him at dinner. He knew tha - Berny could hear every word he ut tered, and with indescribable dreat he expected that she would open hei door and accost him. But again sh< preserved an inviolate Invisibility though beneath her portal he coult see a crack of light and could heai her moving about in the room. He went into his own room, lit thi gas, and began packing his trunks He was dazed and stupefied by wha had occurred, and almost the onlj clearly-defined Idea he had was t< leave the house and get far from thi presence of the woman who had s< ruthlessly poisoned his life. He wai in the midst of his packing when th 4 Chinaman summoned him to dinner but he told the man he careu foi nothing and would want no breakfaff on the following morning. The serv ant, who by this time was well awan that the household was a strange one shrugged his shoulders without com ment and passed on to the door of hli mistress’s room, upon which h< knocked with the low, deferential raj of the Chinese domestic. Berny’i voice sounded shrilly, through the si lence oi the flat: “Go away! Let me alone! If that’i dinner I don’t want any." The sound of her voice pierced Dominick with a sense of loathinf and horror. He stopped in his pack ing, suddenly deciding to leav< everything and go, go from the houst and from her as soon as he could ge 1 away. He thrust into a valise suet articles as he would want for th< night and set the bag by the stair head while he went into the parlor t< find some bills and letters of his tha: he remembered to have left in th* desk. As he passed Berny’s door, it flew open and she appeared in tht aperture. The room behind her was J blaze of light, and every gas-jet lit and pouring a flood of radiance ovei the clothes outspread on the bed, th chairs, and the floor. She, herself in a lace-trimmed petticoat and loos< silk dressing-sack, stood in the door way staring at Dominick, her fact pinched, white, and fierce. “What are you doing?” she said ab ruptly. “Going away?” “Yes," he answered, stopping at th< sight of the dreaded apparition “That’s my intention.” “Where are you going?” she de manded. He gave her a cold look and mad no answer. “Are you going to your mother’s?’ she cried. He moved forward toward the pai lor door and khe came out Into th; passage, looking after him and repea* ing, with a tremulous, hoarse persil tence, “Dotnirlck, answer me. Ap you going to your mother’s?” “Yes, I am," he said over his shou der. He had an unutterable dread tha she would begin to speak of the sit uation, of Buford, of her oast life; that she would try to explain and ex onerate herself and they would b* plunged fme a ’.ung and profitless dU cussion of all the sickening, irremedi able wretchedness of the past. Hi could not bear the thought of It: hi would have done anything to avoid It He wanted to escape from her. front the house where she had tortured him, where he seemed to have laic down his manhood, his honor, his faith, and seen her trample on them The natural supposition that he would want to confront her with her decep tlon and hear her explanation was thi last thirg be desired doing. (TO BB CONTINUED.) Jealousy Ended In Murder. A shocking crime was committed al Bourne End, England, the other day Dora Hussey, a good-looking girl about seventeen years of age, employ ed In a newspaper shop was proceed ing from her brother-in-law's house a: the close of the day, when she was me: by a man to whom It is stated she hat been engaged, but with whom somi difference had arisen. After a fee words the man is alleged to have fa tally cut the girl’s throat with a ra zor, the head being nearly severed from the body. The assailar* thei turned the weapon upon his ow throat. Killing Cut Worms. You can easily get rid of cut wormi around sweet peas by pouring strong soap suds about the roots and picking up the worms which will come scram bling out of the earth at once. Droj the worms in the suds and it will kll. tbem. Do this half a dozen morning* in succession, and you will be rid ol them mean to ever become a married roan The last thing that a bachelor evei intends in getting married Is to be come like other married men.” —Ann Warner, in “Just Between Them selves.” Concerning Deadlocks. am the man with the deadlock!* said the resolute campaigner. “Yes.'' replied the grewsome jester But tha man who fools with the dead lock may find himself on the way V the political cemetery.” POPCORN'S MANY USES DELICACY NOT USUALLY APPRE CIATED BY HOUSEWIFE. Properly Prepared, It Makes an Ideal Breakfa~t Cereal— Better Than Usual Croutons Added to the Dinner Soup. Try popcorn some morning Instead of the ordinary breakfast cereal The j chances are you will like it. The corn should be popped the night before and le:* in the oven or some other warm, I dry place until morning. Before serv- ! Ing, set the food grinder at the notch where it grinds its coarsest ar.d run the popcorn through. Place in a warm oven until the chopped popcorn is heated. Then serve with sugar and cream, like any other brerkfast food. , Try adding half a dozen fluffy white kernels of popcorn to each portion of soup served. These are a pretty sub stitute for the usual croutons, and, es pecially In tomato or pea soup, the color effect Is attractive. Where the soup is served at table a small dish of perfect kernels of popcorn can be placed near the tureei. and a few served with each portion of soup. They float lightly on the surface and are a pretty novelty. For the nur sery table this is a feature sure to be hailed with delight. Try “kornettes" as a novel form of wafer to serve with afternoon tea. Lit the cookies are made from one cup of chopped popcorn, a tablesponful of softened butter, white of one egg, one third of a nun of sugar, and a little salt. Flavor with a half teasponful ol vanilla. The butter is first added to the chopped popcorn, then the egg is stiffly beaten and added, then the sugar and other ingredients. Beat all together thoroughly and drop from tip of teaspoon on to a buttered baking sheet. Spread with a knife dipped in cold water and bake In a slow oven un til a delicate brown. Where a coal range is not available there are several ways of attempting to do corn-popping over a gas stove, but the process is never as satisfac tory as when done over a bed of live coals. An iron stove lid placed over a burner of a gas range and allowed to become red hot will give sufficient hea’ to make the kernels burst 'nto bloom, provided one has a little pa tience. Where gas is used in the kitchen the furnace fire offers a snien did place for the popping of c> rn. With the large area of coals, the work can be done quickly and well. Turkish Sweet. A confection known to every visitor in the land of the crescent and doubt less tasted by the victorious Bali.an soldiers, is diamonds of citron. Pi,re and chop a large fresh citron and boil It until it is tender. Drain the water and add lemon juice and lime juice to cover. Keep tne citrou covered for three days and then drain and add f pint oi boiling syrup of sugar and water and stir until it forms a thick green paste. Add a quarter of a cup of rosewater and boil until it hardens when dropped into ice water to test it. Quickly take from the fire and pour into oiled dishes about ap inch thick. Cut into small pieces when it is cold. Dip in powdered sugar and the confec tion is done. Although this is not easy to make, a person familiar with candy making ought to be able to get very good results from this rule and to approach if not actually equal the veritable Turkish product. Dublin Rocks. Take half a pound of sweet almonds: pick out eight of them, bleach them, cut them into strips, then throw them into rose or orange water till wanted; put the rest of the almonds into a mortar with six, bitter ones and pound them to a paste with a dessertspoon of brandy; add grad ually two ounces of powdered sugar and four ounces of sweet butter; pound the mixture until it looks very white, set it In a cold place to stiffen; dip two spoons into cold water and with these form the paste into pieces the size and shape of an egg; pile these in a glass dish in a rcckiike form and ornament with strips of an gelica, the almonds which were first put aside and a little myrtle. Suffi cient for a small dish. Apple Fritters- Pare apples and cut in thin slices, put the in a bowl with a glass of brand/, white wine, a quarter pound pounded sugar, a little cinna mon (finely powdered) and the rind of a lemon (grated). Let stand some time, turning over frequently. Bat two eggs very light, add one-quarter pound flour, one tablespoon melted butter and as much cold water as will make a thin batter. Dip the apples on a sieve, mix them with the batter and take one slice with a spoon of butter to each fritter. Fry them quickly to a light brown, drain well, put hi a dish, sprinkle sugar over each and glaze them nicely. Burnt Sugar Cake. This Is a nice ice cream cake, as the delicate caramel flavor goes well with most any kind of cream. Take half a cup of butter, one and a half cups pf sugar, one cup water, four tablespoonfuls caramel, two teaspoon fuls baking powder, two and a half cups of flour, one teaspotnful vanilla, and beaten whites of two eggs. Bake In a loaf and ice with boiled nut icing made of one cup sugar, one cup milk, teaspoonful butter, and two teaspoon fuls caramel to flavor:.add half cup chopped nuts and raisins. For Cane-Seated Chairs. When cane-seated chairs begin to sag an excellent plan is to turn the chair upside down and scour the un der part of the seat with soapsuds. Then rinse with boiling water and let dry in the open air, if possible. This saves quite a little sum and makes the seat of the chair almost like new cane. Usefulness of Cheesecloth. C'heee.*oth makes good strainers, dust cloths, polishers for furniture or shoes, is excellent to He over milk crocks and fruit Jars, and makes dainty curtains and comforters. Spilled Water. Water spilled upon the bed. when someone is ill, may be quickly dried in this manner: Fill a hot water bottle with boiling water and place It betwee nthe mat tress and thu bed clothing. * Asparagus In Pepper Rings. Remove the seed:? from green pep pers. Cut rings one-quarter of an inch wide and slip through them as paragus stalks, canned or freshly cooked. Serve with cold French dressing. SOLON AVOIDS LONG SESSION Representative Henry Desiring to End Meeting Tells Story That Stops Man's Long Speech. Representative Henry, at a political meeting In Waco, desiring to draw a rather protracted session to a close, when a man rose and said pompous ly: “I wish to offer a few remarks, and these I will subdivide into twelve heads.” But here Mr. Henry, his eyes twink ling, interrupted. “Gentlemen,” he said, “let me tell you a story. A man was lurching home very late the other evening, much the worse for a bachelor's sup per or something of that sort. He came to a clock tower, and paused and looked up at the illuminated dial to see the time. As he did so, the clock began to strike. One — two —three — four the Inebriate listened, counting the strokes carefully, and when, at iast, twelve sounded, he said, as he prepared to stagger on again; Durn you—hie—why couldn't you have said that all at once?’ ” Amid loud laughter Mr. Henry sat down, and the pompous man made a much shorter speech than he bad in tended. Planning for Summsr. If you are planning to take a pleas ure or business trip during the sum mer, try getting pillow and "knap sack" ready now. Cravenetted ma terial is a good choice for the pillow, as it is impervious to occasional wet tings, and can L>e laundered. Or the pillow may have an extra cover of smooth linen or silk, to be slipped over and fastened securely with but tons or snap fasteners. This should be about half a yard square, with strong straps at the upper corners by which to hang it over the chair top, preventing it from slipping down. The knapsack is just a fit bag, with a stout strap to hold or hang it by, and can be made to sling over the shoul der, if desired. It should have a few small pockets on the inside and a flap to fasten down. In this one can carry small necessities, a book, or other articles, which a traveler always finds a use for. No Time to Lose. They had been married Just two months and they still loved each other devotedly. He was In the back yard blacking his shoes. “Jack!” she called at the top of her voice. “,)aoK, come hefe. quick.” He knew at once that she was in im minent danger. He grasped a stick and rushed up two flights of stairs to the rescue. He entered the room breathlessly, and found her looking out of the window. “lx)Ok,” said she. “that's the kind of bonnet I want you to get me.” —Harp- er's Magazine. Eats ’Em Alive. “I understand It takes four years of education to prepare a lion for circus ! life,” said the visitor to the trainer \ standing beside the lion’s cage. “Yes, that is true," replied the j trainer. “You must get very tired after four years ?” “Oh, I haven’t been training this one four years. I am the eight hun dred and forty second trainer they've tried on this one. I’ve only been here two hours!" A Vanished Shrine. “What of your trip abroad?” “My wife was deeply disappointed In one thing. She visited Shake speare's home all right.” “Well?” “But she also wanted to pay a visit | to the tub of Diogenes.” Turn About. “Mr Wombat,” said the boss, “you have been getting off to go to the baseball a good deal lately.” “I know It, sir.” “Then would you mind working at th" office for a few extra innings to uignt?" Appropriate Loss. “The farmer who came in with me this morning lost all his money on a shell game.” "Did he?” “Yes, and It was his wife's egg money, too.” The Spring Deluge. “Why do you avoid your friends of late, old man? Anything gone wrong?” “No; but about this time of year everybody you know wants to sell you a ticket for something or other.” Good Advice. “1 don’t know how to kill time." “Why don’t you Bing a bit? You know then you always murder iL” An International corpoiaiion, capi talized at $100,000,000, is forming in London to exploit Brazil’s coal de posits David Wortlew, age ninety, of Sun bury. Pa., is being sued for desertion by his wife, aged eighty. A vise man has his hand on tha door knob when opportunity knocks BEGAN YOUNG. Had “Coffaa Narvaa” From Youth. “When very young I began using coffee and continued up to the last six months.” writes a Texas girl. “I had been exceedingly nervous, thin and very sallow. After quitttng coffee and drinking Poetum about a month my nervousness disappeared and has never returned This is the more remarkable as I am a primary teacher and have kept right on with my work. “My complexion now is clear and rosy, my skin soft and smooth Asa good complexion was something I had greatly desired, I feel amply repaid even though this were the only benefit derived from drinking Postum. “Before beginning its use I had suf fered greatly from indigestion and headache; these troubles are now un known. “I changed from ccftce to Postum without the slightest Inconvenience, diu not even have a headache. Have known coffee drinkers, vho were visiting me, to use Postum a week without being swart that they were not drinking coffee.” Name given by Poßtum Cos., Battle Creek, Mich. Write for booklet, “The Road to Wellville.” Postum comes in two forms. Regular (must be boiled). Instant Postum doesn’t require boil ing but is prepared instantly by stir ring a level teaspoonful in an ordinary cup of hot water, which makes It right for most persons. A big cup requires more and some people who like strong things pi t In a heaping spoonful and tempei.lt with a large Bupply of cream. Experiment until you know the amount that pleases your palate and have it served that way In tho futura. “There's a Reason” for Postum.