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l Jill 111 I Jr-iff lii 111 \£n wßb iAifißCfiOEfffi -A. NOVEIi. AUTHBIL OF ‘Tfff/jQO/f TJ2A/L “ *77l££PCfLEB£ " ~/f£A£T OF TEE SmS£r”£K ODP'/RT&Hr sv HARPER. AND BROTHERS. ESTEBAN’S CONNECTION WITH THE INSURRECTOS BRINGS DISASTER UPON HIMSELF AND ROSA. Synopsis.—Don Esteban Varona, a Cuban planter, hides his wealth —money, jewels and title deeds—in a well on his estate. The hiding place is known only to Sebastian, a slave. Don Esteban's wife dies at the birth of twins, Esteban and Rosa. Don Esteban marries the avaricious Donna Isabel, who tries unsuccessfully to wring the secret of the hidden treasure from Sebastian. Angered at his refusal, she urges Don .Esteban to sell Evangelina, Sebastian’s daughter. Don Esteban refuses, but in the course of a gambling orgie, he risks Evangelina at cards and loses. Crazed by the loss of his daughter, Sebastian kills Don Esteban and is himself killed. Many years pass and Donna Isabel is unable to And the hidden treasure. Don Mario, rich sugar merchant, seeks to marry Rosa, who has returned from .school in the United States. Johnnie O’Reilly, an American, who loves Rosa, wins her promise to wait for him until he can return from New York. CHAPTER IV—Continued. — 4 — Seating himself on one of the old stone benches, the young man lit a cigarette and composed himself to wait He sat there for a long time, grumbling inwardly, for the night was damp and was sleepy ; but at last a figure stole out of the gloom and Joined him. The newcomer was a rag ged negro, dressed in llie fashion of the poorer country people. “Well. Asensio, 1 thought you’d never come. I’ll get a fever from this!” Esteban said irritably. “II is a long way. Don Esteban, and Evangelina made me wait until dark. I tell you we have to be careful these days.” “What is the news? What did you hear?” Asensio sighed gratefully as he seat ed himself. “One hears a great deal, but one never knows what to believe. There is fighting in Santa Clara, and Maceo sweeps westward.” Taking the unaddressed letter from his pocket, Esteban said. “I have an other message for Colonel Lopez.” “That Lopez! He’s here today and I lice tomorrow; one cad never lind him.” “Well, you must find him, and im mediately. Asensio. This letter con tains important news—so important, in fact”—Esteban laughed lightly—“that If you find yourself in danger from the Spaniards I’d advise you to chew it up and swallow it as quickly as you can.” “I’ll remember that,” said the negro, “for there’s danger enough. Still, I fear these Spaniards less than the guerrilleros: they a-e everywhere. They call themselves patriots, but they are nothitig more than robbers. They—” Asensio paused abruptly. He seized his companion by the arm and, lean ing forward, stared across the level garden into the shadows opposite. Something was moving there, under the trees; the men could see that it was white and formless, and that It pursued an erratic course. “What’s that?” gasped the negro. He begun to tremble violently and his breath became audible. Esteban was compelled to hold him down by main force. “It’s old Don Esteban, your fa ther. They say be walks at midnight, carrying his head in his two bands.” Young Varona managed to whisper, with some show of courage: “Hush! Wait! I don’t believe in ghosts.” Nev- '•What’s That?" Gasped the Negro. •rtheless. he was on the point of set ting Asenslo an example of undignified flight when the mysterious object emerged from the shadows into the open moonlight: then he sighed with relief: “Ah-h! Now I see! It is my stepmother. She Is asleep." For a moment or two they watched the progress of the white-robed figure; then Esteban stirred and rose from his seat. "She’s too close to that well. There is—" He started forward a pace or two. “They say people who walk at night go mad If they’re awak ened too suddenly, and yet—“ When (he somnambulist's deliberate progress toward the mouth of the well continued he called her name softly. “Donna Isabel I” Then he repeated it louder. "Donna Isabel I Wake up.” The woman seemed to hear aud yet no; to hear. She turned her head to listen, but continued to walk. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said, reas suringly. “It is only Esteban—Donna Isabel! Stop!” Esteban sprung for ward. shoutiug at the top of his voice, for at the sound of her name Isabel j b id abruptly swerved to her right, a j movement which brought her danger- : ously close to the lip of the well. "Stop' Go back!” screamed the i young man. Above his warning there came a j shriek, shrill and agonized—a wall of j such abysmal terror us to shock the birds and the insects into still ness. Donna Isabel slipped, or stum bled, to her knees, she balanced briefly, clutching at random while the earth anil crumbling cement gave way be ueath h(Jl ' : she slid forward and disappeared, almost out from between Esteban's hands. There was a noisy rattle of rock and pebble and a great splash far below; a chuckle of little stones striking the water, then a faint bubbling. Nothing more. The stepson stood in his tracks, sick, blind with horror: he was swaying over the open- when Asensio dragged him back. Panebo Cueto, being a heavy sleeper, was the last to be roused by Esteban’s outcries. When he had hurriedly slipped into his clothes in response to the pounding on his door, the few serv ants that rhe establishment supported had been thoroughly awakened. Cueto thought they must be out of their minds until he learned what had be fallen the mistress of the house. Then, being a man of action, he too issued swift orders, with the result that by the time he and Esteban had run to the well a rope and lantern were readv for their use. Before Esteban could lotm and fir a loop for his shoulders there was sufficient help on hand to lower hint into the treacherous abyss. That was a gruesome task which fell to Esteban, for the well had been long unused, its sides were oozing slime, its waters were stale and black. He was on the point of fainting when he finally climbed out. leaving the negroes to hoist the dripping, inert weight which he had found at the bottom. Old Sebastian’s curse had come true; Donna Isabel had met the fate he had called down upon her that day when he hung exhausted in his chains and when the flies tormented -hint. The treasure for which the woman had intrigued so tirelessly had been her death. Furthermore, as if in grim mest irony, she had been permitted at the very last to find it. Living she had searched to no purpose v%ttso ever; dying, she had almost grasped it in her arms. Once the first excitement had abated and a messenger had been sent to town. Cueto drew Estebun aside and questioned him. “A shocking tragedy and most pe culiar,” said the overseer. “Nothing could amaze me more. Tell me, how did you come to be there at such an hour, eh?” Esteban saw the malevolent curios ity in Cueto’s face and started. “I That is my affair. Surely you don’t think —” “Come, come! You can trust me.” The overseer winked and smiled. “I had business that took me there,” stiffly declared the younger man. “Exactly! And a profitable busi ness it proved!” Cueto laughed openly now. “Well. I don’t mind telling you Donna Isabel's death is no disappoint ment to anyone. Anybody could see ” “Stop!” Esteban was turning alter nately red and white. “You seem to Imply something outrageous.” “Now let us be sensible. I under stand you perfectly, my boy. But an officer of the Guardia Civil may arrive at any moment and he will want to know how you came to be with your stepmother when she plunged into that trap. So prepare yourself.” Young Varona was watching his in quisitor now with a faintly speculative frown. When Cueto had finished. Es teban said: “You fcould like me to confess to some black iniquity that would make us better friends, eh? Well, it so hap pens that 1 was not alone tonight, but that another person saw the poor wom an's death and can bear me out in ev erything I say. No, Pancho, you over reach yourself. Now, then"—Esteban was quick-tempered, and for years he had struggled against an Instinctive distrust and dislike of the plantation manager—“remember that I have be come the head of this house, and your employer. You will do better to think of your own affairs than of mine. I intend to have a careful reckoning with you. 1 think you know I have a good head for figures.” Turning his back upon the elder man. he walked away. Now it did not occur to Cueto really to doubt the boy’s innocence, though the circumstances ol Donna Isabel's death were suspicious enough to raise a question iu any mind; but in view of Esteban's threat he thought it wise to protect himself by setting a back fire. As he sat on an old stone bench, moodily repictnring the catastrophe as Esteban had described it. his attention fell upon an envelope at his feet. It was sealed: it was unaddressed. Cue to idly broke it open and began to read. Before he had gone far he start ed; then he cast a furtive glance about. Bet the place was secluded: he was unobserved. When lie finished reading he rose, smiling. He no longer feared Esteban. On the contrary, he rather pitied the young fool; for here between his fingers was that which not only promised to remove the boy from his path forever, but to place in his hands the entire Varona estates. One afternoon, perhaps a week later, Don Mario de Castano came puffing and blowing up to the quinta, demand ing to see Rosa without a moment’s delay. With a directness unusual even in him, l>ou Mario began: "Rosa, my dear, you and Esteban have been discovered! I was at lunch with the co'umandante when I learned the truth. Through friendship I pre vailed upon him to give you an hour’s grace.” “What do you mean, Don Mario?” inquired the girl. “Come, come!” the planter cried, im patiently. “Don’t you see you can trust me? Heaven! The recklessness, the folly of young people! Could you not leave this insurrection to your elders? Or perhaps you thought it a matter of no great importance, an amusing thing—” “Don Mario!” Rose interrupted. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” “You don’t, eh?” The caller’s wet cheeks grew redder; he blew like a porpoise. “Then call Esteban quickly! There is not a moment to lose.” When the brother appeared De Castano blurted out at him accusingly; “Well, sir! A fine fix you’ve put yourself In. Perhaps you will be interested to learn that Colonel Fernandez has issued or ders to arrest you and your sister as agents of the insurreetos.” “What?” Esteban drew back. Rosa turned white as a lily and laid a flut tering hand upon her throat. “You two wfill sleep tonight in San Severino,” grimly announced the ro tund visitor. “You know what that means.” Rosa uttered a smothered cry. “Colonel Fernandez,” Don Mario proceeded, impressively, “did me this favor, knowing me to be a suitor for Rosa’s hand. In spite of his duty and the evidence he—” “Evidence? What evidence?” Este ban asked sharply. “For one thing, your own letter to Lopez, the rebel, warning hint to be ware of the trap prepared fGT him in Santa Clara, and advising him of the government force at Sabanilla. Oh, “Your Accuser Is None Other Than Pancho Cueto.” don’t try to deny it! I read it with my own eyes, and it means—death.” Rosa said* faintly: “Esteban! I warned you.” Esteban was taken aback, but It was plain that he was not in the least frightened. "They haven’t caught me yet,” he laughed. “You say they intend to arrest me also?” Rosa eyed the caller anxiously. “Exactly!” “Who accuses her, and of what?” Esteban demanded. “That also I have discovered through the courtesy of Colonel Fernandez. Your accuser is none other than Pan oho Cueto.” “Cueto 1” “Yes; he has denounced both of you as rebels, and the letter is only part of his proof, I believe. Now, then, you can guess why I ant here. T am not without influence; I can save Rosa, hut for you, Esteban, I fear I can do noth ing. You must look out for yourself. Well? What do you say?” When Esteoan saw how pale his sis ter had grown, he took her in his arms, saying gently: “I’m sorry, dear. It’s all my fault.” Then to the merchant: “It’s very good of you to warn us.” “Ha!” Don Mario fanned himself. “I’m glad you appreciate my efforts. It’s a good thing to have the right kind of a friend. I’ll marry Rosa within an hour, and I fancy my name will be a sufficient shield —” RosSli turned to her elderly suitor and made a deep courtesy. “I am un worthy of the honor," said she. “You see. I—l do not love you. Don Mario.” “Love!” exploded the visitor. “God bless you! What has love to do with the matter? Esteban will have to ride for his life in ten minutes and your property will be seized. So you had better muke yourself ready to go with me.” But Rosa shook her head. “Eh? What ails you? What do you expect to do?” “I shall go with Esteban,” said the girl. This calm announcement seemed to stupefy De Castano. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair, and with his wet handkerchief poised in one pudgy hand he stared fixedly at the speaker. His eyes were round and bulging, the sweat streamed unheeded from his temples. He resembled some queer bloated marine monster just emerged from the sea and momentarily dazzled by the light. “You— You’re mad," he finally gasped. “Esteban, tell her what It means.” But this Esteban could not do, for he himself had not the faintest no tion of what was in store for him. War seemed to-him a glorious thing; he had been told that the hills were peopled with patriots. He was very young, his heart was ablaze with hatred for the Spaniards and for Pancho Cueto. He longed to risk his life for a free Cuba. Therefore he said: “Rosa shall do as she pleases. If we must be exiles we shall share each other's hardships. It will not be for long." “Idiot!” stormed the far man. “Bet ter that you gave her to the sharks below San Severino. There is no law, no safety for women outside of the cities. The island is In anarchy. These patriots you talk about are the blacks, the mulattoes. the—lowest, laziest sav ages in Cuba.” “Please! Don Mario!” the girl pleaded. “I cannot marry yon. for—l love another.” “Eh?” "I love another. I’m betrothed to O’Reilly, the American—and he’s com ing back to marry me.” De Castano twisted himself labori ously out of his chair aud waddled toward the door. He was purple with rage and mortification. On the thresh old he paused to wheeze: “Very well, then. Go! I’m done with both of you. I would have lent you a hand with this rascai Cueto. hut now he will fall heir to your entire piuperty. Well, it is a time for bandits! I—I—” Unable to think of a parting speech sufficiently hitter to match his disappointment, Don Mitrio plunged out into the sun light, muttering and stammering to himself W ithin ur hour the twins were on their way up the Yumuri, toward the home of A sensio and Evangelina; for it was thi her that they naturally turned. It was well that they had made haste, for as they rode down into the vailey, up the other site of the hill froir Matauzas came a squad of the Cuardfa Civil, and at its head rode Pancho Cueto. CHAPTER V. A Cry From the Wilderness. New York seemed almost like a for eign city to Johnnie O’Reilly when he stepped out into it on the morning after his arrival. For one thing it was bleak and cold: the north wind, hail ing direct from Baffin’s bay, had teeth, and it hit so cruelly that he was glad when he found shelter in the building which housed the offices of the Carter Importing company. The truth Is O’Reilly was not only cold but fright ened. It was not the effect of his report concerning the firm’s unprofitable Cu bnn connections which he feared — Samuel Carter could take calmly the most disturbing financial reverse—lt was the blow to his pride at learning that anybody could prefer another girl to his daughter. Johnnie shook his shoulders and stamped his feet, but the chill in his bones refused to go. He went to meet his employer as a man marches to execution. His heart sank further at the wel come he received, for the importer gave him a veritable embrace; he pat ted him on the back aud Inquired three times as to his health. O’Reilly was anything but cold now; he was perspir ing profusely, and he felt his collar growing limp. To shatter this old man’s eager hopes would be like kicking a elrllcl in the face. Carter had never been so enthusiastic, so demonstra tive; there wa" something almost the atrical in his greeting. “Well, my hoy. you made a fizzle of it, didn’t you?" The tone was almost complimentary. “Yes, sir, I’m a bright and shining failure.” “Now, don’t ‘yes, sir’ me. We’re fHends, aren’t we? Good! Under stand. I don’t blame you in the least— it’s that idiotic revolution that spoiled our business. You did splendidly, un der the circumstances.” “They have reason enough to re volt —oppression, tyranny, corruption.” O’Reilly mumbled the familiar words in a numb paralysis at Mr. Carter’s jo vial familiarity. “All Latin countries are corrupt,” announced the importer—“always hnve been and always will be. They thrive under oppression. However, I dare say inis uprising won’t last long.” Johnnie wondered why the old man didn’t get down to cases. “It’s more lhan an uprising, sir,” he said. “The rebels have overrun the east end of the island, and when I left Maceo and Gomez were sweeping west.” “Bah ! It takes money to run a war.” “They have money.” desperately ar gued O’Reilly. “Marti raised more than a million dollars, and every Cu ban cigar maker in the United States gives a part of his wages every week TF.LLS ABOUT JOHN RANDOLPH Thomas H. Benton Relates interview With Eccentric Man, in Which He Depicts His Melancholy Mood. Thomas H. Benton in his “Thirty Years’ View” gives an interesting ac count of an interview he had with the eccentric John Randolph of Roanoke. The interview was at Mr. Benton’s room in Crawford’s hotel, in George town. It was In the gloom of the eve ning, before the lamps were lit. Mr. Randolph, reclining on a soft y silent and thoughtful, repeated, as if to him self, Johnson’s lines on “Senility and Imbecility,” that show his life under its most melancholy form : “In life's '*’st scenes what prodigies sm prise. Fears of the brave and follies of the wise. Down Marlborough’s eyes the streams of dotage flow. And Swift expires a driveller and a show.” When Mr. Randolph finished repeat ing these lines. Mr. Benton said to him: “Mr. Randolph, I have often heard you repeat these as if they could have an application to yourself, while no one can have less reason than your self to fear the fate of Swift.” To this Randolpli replied : “I have lived in dread of insanity." While Randolph was not insane in the ordinary sense of the word, if is certain that he had occasional tem porary aberrations of the mind, and it was during such times that his talk was most brilliant, a copious flow for hours of wit and classic allusion, a perfect scattering of the diamonds of the mind. His will was contested on the ground of insanity, but it was not set aside. First American Multimillionaire. The first American multimillionaire to attain international fame on ac count of his vast wealth was Stephen Girard. Of the financial dynasties of today only the Astors and Vanderbilts were represented in Girard’s time, and the fortune of the distinguished Phila delphian exceeded that of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt or the first John Jacob Astor. Girard was worth $9,000.- 000 at the time of his death. Much of this mouey he left to the city of Phila delphia for public purposes, and $2,000,000 were applied to the building of a college for orphans. This institu tion has supported and educated tens of thousands of orphans and fitted them for their battles with the world. Girard was a free thinker. Little Danger of Salt Famine. Jso universally needed, salt deposits are found iu many parts of the world. The quantity of salt in the ocean is said to be equal to at least five times the mass of the Alps. Near Cracow. Poland, is a bed 500 miles long. 20 miles wide and a quarter of a mile thick. This mine is the greatest of its kind in the world and houses a complete city under the earth’s crust engaged in operating the salt deposits. Houses, streets, electric lights and all the accessories of above-ground vil lages are here found. Mine mules have been born in the Cracow works, to live a long life of usefulness with out once ever coming to the surface. In New South Wales there Is a mountain from which rock yielding 80 per cent alum has been mined for more than half a century. ■WaI'JU 1 I‘lLb'l' to the cause. The best blood of Cuba is in the fight. Spain is about busted; she can’t stand the strain.” “I predict they’ll quit fighting as soon as they get hungry. The govern ment is starving them out. However, they’ve wound up our affairs for the time being, and—” Mr. Carter care* fully shifted the position of an inkweii, a calendar and a paper knife—“that brings us to a consideration of youe and my affairs, doesn't it? Ahern ■ You remember our bargain? I was to give you a chance and you were to make good before you—er—planned any —er —matrimonial foolishness with my daughter.” “Yes. sir.” O’Reilly felt that th moment had come for his carefully re hearsed speech, but, unhappily, he could not remember how the swan song started. Mr. Carter, too, was un accountably silent. Another moment dragged past, then they chorused. “I have an unpleasant—” Each broke off at the echo of his own words “ What’s that?" inquired the Im porter. “No-nothing. You were saying—” “I was thinking how lucky it is that you and Elsa waited. Hm-m! Very fortunate.” Again Mr. Carter rear ranged his desk fitHngs. "We some times differ, Elsa and I, but when she sets her heart on a thing I see that she gets it, even if I think she oughtn’t to have it. What’s the use of having children If you can’t spoil ’em, eh?” He looked up -with a sort of resentful challenge, and when his listener ap peared to agree with him he sighed with satisfaction. “Early marriages are silly—but she seems to think other wise. Maybe she’s right. Anyhow she’s licked me. I’m done. She wants to be married right away, before we go west. That’s why I waited to see yon at once. You won’t object, will you? We men have to take our medi cine.” “It’s quite out of the question,” stammered the unhappy O’Reilly. “Come, come! It’s tough on you. I know, but—” Johnnie had a horrified vision of himself being dragged unwil lingly to the altar. “Elsa is going to have what she wants, if I have to break something. If you’ll be sensible I’ll stand behind you like a father and teach you the business. I’m getting old, and Ethe'.bert could never learn it. Otherwise —” The old man's jaw set; his eyes began to gleam angrily. “Who is—Ethelbert?” faintly in quired O’Reilly. “Why, dammit! He’s the fellow I’ve been telling you about. He’s not so bad as he sounds; he’s really a nice boy— “ Elsa is In love with another man? Is that what you mean?” “Good Lord, yes! Don’t you under stand English? I didn’t think you’d take it so hard-—I was going to make a place for you here in the office, but of course if — Say! What the deuce ails you?” Samuel Carter stared with amaze ment, for tile injured victim of his daughter’s fickleness had leaped to his feet and was shaking his hand vigor ously, meanwhile uttering unintelli gible sounds that seemed to signify relief, pleasure, delight—anything ex cept what the old man expected. O’Reilly, in New York, learns of Rosa’s plight. The next in stallment tells what happened then. j ANOTHER SAD SIDE OF WAR Many Men Who Have Won Honor* | Have Lost Comrades and Feel Lack of Companionship. An American was sitting in Simpson’s restaurant recently having dinner when a hardy man in Canadian uniform srarted to converse with him. The Canadian was working in a large automobile factory in Windsor when the war started, but enlisted in a Canadian regiment and has been in five of the worst battles of the war. Hardly a handful of (he men who started with him are still on the roster. This particular soldier was about to leave for (he trenches again after cmn ; pleting his leave. There was nothing remarkable In that, but this is his story: Inside his coat he wore the Victoria Cross. He got it at Ypres, where he carried a captain three hundred feet through No Man's Land with bullets Hying all about him. He has no ac quaintances in England. He hasn’t a relative in the world. He was just hungering for someone to talk to when he saw the American. He re luctantly showed his decoration, and said It would give him great happiness if iie had someone somewhere in the world who was close enough to him to slap him on the back and say, “Good, old chap!” Still he wasn't maudlin about it. Ho was just one of thousands who are carrying honors around with them and have no relative or intimate friend to congratulate them. It’s war. This particular soldier said as he left X : “If I ever get through I’m going back to the States, but the odds are against me. We can't always beat tills fighting game. Tt’s like roulette. It gets you in the long run. There is only one man of my original company left besides myself."—London Mail. Whist. The number of ail possible distribu ; tions of a pack of cards in the game j of whist, is 53.644 quadrillions and i 787,765 trillions and 477.792 billions and 889.237 millions and 440.000. The following illustration may give an idea of the immensity of this number: If on the entire surface of our 'globe, inclusive of all mountains and oceans, whist tables could be so placed that each table together with the four play ers should occupy no more space than one square meter (39.37 square inches), and if they should play whist incessantly, each game consuming only five minutes, it would require more than a thousand million years before every possible distribution of the 52 cards could be realized. Worms That Thrive on Ice. F. E. Matthes of the United State* geological survey described some strange worms that abound on the low er parts of the Mount Rainier glaciers. They are dark brown, slender and about an inch in length. On favorable days in July and August millions and millions of them may be found writh ing on the surface of the ice. evidently breeding there and feeding on organic matter biown upon the glacier in the form of dust. “So essentia.) to their existence.” says Mr. Matthes, “is the ;hill of the ice that they enter several ; inches, and sometimes many feet, be low the surface on days when the sun i is particularly hot, reappearing late in the afternoon." (TO BE CONTINUED.i DDTCtVINC nr we m MART THE COYOTE BROTHERS. “Of course," said the coyote, ot prairie wolf, “there are creatures who don’t like me.” “They aren’t any fonder of me,” said his brother, Jimmie Coyote. Now the flrst speaker's name was Jackie Coyote and Jackie had quite a lot to say. “Will you listen to me?” he asked of his brother. “Certainly,” said Jimmie. “I was listening to you before. If I bad not been listening how could I have said that there were creatures who weren't any fonder of me than of you? That was because I had been paying atten tion to what you were saying.” “That’s so,” said Jackie. "Well, I’ll be glad if you listen to me some more. I’ve lots to say to you.” “I will be delighted to,” said Jimmie, barking quite happily. “In the first place,” said Jackie, “there are some creatures, such as the prairie dog’ for Instance, who don’t like us.” “Well, really,” said Jimmie, “I can understand why the prairie dogs don’t like us, can’t you?” “I suppose so,” said Jackie, “but still It shows we appreciate them when we eat them up. We enjoy their tender little bodies.” “True,” said Jimmie. “Yes, to hear you talk of them makes my mouth wa ter. But still, the prairie dogs don’t like to be eaten up. They’re very fond of living. They don’t care for our sort of appreciation.” “I suppose I can’t Mame them for that,” said Jackie, “but still to hear you talk about how much they like to live, ore would think you had turned over anew leaf and had decided never to eat one again. Is that so?" “No!” barked Jimmie. “It’s not true. I’d eat the flrst one I saw. But what do you mean about my turning over a new leaf? I haveu’t turned over any rvr’c*"" ”” ” r\ f ■ rvTrw “I'd Eat the First One I Saw.” new leaf, I’ve not-seen one—-old or new —and if I did I wouldn’t stop to turn it over. Leaves don’t interest me.” “Turning over anew leaf,” said Jackie, "means to begin over again the trying to be good.” "Oil, now. T understand,” said Jim mie. “Well, I’ve done nothing liko that, nor will Ido anything 1 iktj thtt if a prairie dog happens my way.” “I have left my story way behind,” said Jackie. “I must continue where 1 left o(T.” “Pray do,” said Jimmie. “We had gone as far as the point where we both agreed that there, were creatures who didn’t, like us, the coy ote family, otherwise known as the prairie wolves. But again there are some who think quite, well of us. “We’re smaller than the gray wolves, and the only time we’re very good look ing is in the autumn. The Mrs. Prairie Wolves are never very handsome. “We aren’t brave, for it’s foolish to our minds to he brave. We don’t want to get hurt. But we’re wise, very wise. "We always know whether the men have their guns or not. They say it is surprising how we always know it. And if they haven’t their guns we’re quite friendly. “Of course we like to do our own little bit of hunting, hut when it comes to being hunted and with guns which always aim so straight—well, that’s an entirely different question." "It is, indeed,” said Jimmie. “You have given a true story of the habits and ways of the coyote or prairie wolf. And I like to hear about myself and yourself and all of our relations.” “It’s a fact,” said Jackie, “that all creatures like to hear about them selves. And It’s true of the coyote, too.” “Hark! Hark! Do I hear some prairie dogs in the. distance?” asked Jimmie. “You certainly have good ears,” said Jackie, “and most certainly you have not turned over anew leaf.” “Let’s go and see," said Jimmie. So the Coyote brothers went off a hunting but on this trip they were not what they called “fortunate,” which meant that the prairie dogs were for tunate and escaped a most untimely end. And Jackie and Jimmie had to have another kind of a supper. Which Was Lazy? A surly looking dog sat in a wood watching a squirrel frolic in the trees above. At last the squirrel playfully threw a nut at him and the dog there upon said: “I've sat here for two hours watch ing you, and you have nor done a sin gle stroke of work.” “Why, what a lazy dog you must be,” replied the squirrel, “if you’ve spent two hours watching me.” Best Preparation. The way to get ready to enjoy the fulure Is to enjoy the present. The way to prepare for usefulness by and by, is to be useful now. The best preparation for happiness is to be hap py. We learn to do by doing, to serve by serving.—Girl’s Companion. Thirteen Is Unlucky. Teacher —Bobby, can you tell me why the multiplication table stops at twelve? Bobby—l guess it’s because thirteen at a table is unlucky. Where Collie Got Name. The collie's aaxne appears to be shrouded in mystery; but there seems ’o be a fairly reasonable foundation for supposing that it is from “coll” or “collar.” on account of the broad white mark round the neck which Is seta in the majority of these dogs. Talk Over the Wires. Over 70.000 cities and towns In the United States use 9,151.211 telephones. It is estimated that an average of 8.600,000,000 messages are sent over these lines annually. DENTISTS C. W. CHUBBUCK Dentist Offices—Lawrence BlocK Nos. 5T5-517 Third Street DR. CONLIN Dentist Office Over NATIONAL GERMAN AMERI CAN BANK Telephone 1711. DR. G. G. ANDERSON Dentist Office Over Muelle/s Jewelry Btore. DR. A. H. LEMKE Dentist Office—3l2 South First Aver we, over Albers' west side drag store. CHIROPRACTIC N. RIGHTMAN, D. G. Chiropractic 9to 11:30 A.M. Ito 5 P.M. 6:30 to BP. M OVER 5 AND IO CENT STORE Telephone 1525 GREEN BROS. Proprietors City ’Bus and Baggage Line Cor. Second and Jefferson Sts. WAUSAU, WIS* The Only Transfer Company In the City Telephone 1022. will occupy your entire time when you become a regular Advertiser in THIS PAPER,. Unless you have an antipathy for labor of this kind, call us up and we’ll be glad to come and talk over our proposition. CHAS. H. WEGNER Largest Genera! Store in Wansau Groceries, Clothing, Crockery, Hay, Feed, Flour, Produce, Etc. k Stock of Fresh Reft, Batter aid Fsra Prsdiao ilrsyt m Its 4 YOUR PRINTING. If it is worth doing at all, it’s worth doing well. First class work at all times is our motto. Go After Business in a business way—the advertising way. An ad in this paper offers the maximum service at the mini mum cost. It reaches the people of the town you want to reach. Try It— lt Pays ....TRY THE WANT ADS.... THEY ARE SURE WINNERS BUSINESS DIRECTORY ATTORNEYS Neal Brown L. A. Pradt Fred Oenrtek BROWN, PRADT & GENRIGH LAWYERS Praetlaa In all courts. Loans, Ab traota and Collections Offices over First National Bank. KBEUTZER, BIRD, OKONESKi & TONER ATTORNEYS AT LAW. corner Fourth and Bcott streets, in Wisconsin Valley Trust building. Money to loan in large or small amounts. Collections a specialty. EDGAR & JOHNSON ATTORNEYS McCrossen Block, Rooms 1-2-3 Phona 1123 WAUSAU. WISCONSIN M. W. SWEET ATTORNEY AT LAW Office in First Nat'l Bank Bldg. Tel. I3Q REGNER & RINGLE ATTORNEYS AT LAW. loans and Cos lections a specialty. Offlea *O6 Third street. FRED GENRICH Attorney at Law. Office In First National Bank Building. SMITH & LEICHT ATTORNEYS AT LAW 812 Third St. Phono 1738 PHYSICIANS Dr. Harriet A. Whitehead OSTEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN Fifteen Years’ Experience Thirteen Years in Wausau Hours 9 a. m. to 12; 2 to 6 p. m. Spencer Bldg., 606 1-2 Third Street Telephone 1660 MRS. CLARA BOETTCHER OBSTETRIX Night Calls Attended To 620 McClellan St. Phone 1557 Dr. D. Sauerhering Office 402 First Street First Door North of Public Library Telephone No. 1684 DRAY LINE C. H. Wegner, Prop. All kinds of light and heavy dray fng, household goods moved, freight delivered, etc. Rates the Lowest and Service Prompt. ! Remember f That every added sub scriber helps to make this paper better for everybody