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( c,l P>llp%>t. IMi, by International News Service) He Discovers America Tomorrow: Watch for a Thrill Monday EASY MATTER ' What do I say at the wedding " j "Not a word dad. All you utter Is tlie cheque." May (indignantly)—l don't care. I think Harry Easterleigh is downright mean. Marie —Why. May? May—Well, he wrote me from Egypt, saying* he had shot a crocodile seven feet long, and that when he shot an other he would have a pair of slip pers made for me. I'll never speak to him again. The Dingbat Family Polly and Her Pals Us Boys ?* On the Road to Dublin E sat cross legged on the road- Hslde beside a heap of stones, and with slow regularity his hammer swung up and down, crack ing a stone into small pieces at each descent. But his heart was not in the work. He hit whatever stone chanced to be nearest. There was no cunning selection in his ham mer, nor any of those oddities of stroKe which a curious and inter ested worker would have essayed for the mere trials of his artistry. He was not difficult to become ac quainted with, and after a little con versation, I discovered that all the sorrows of the world were sagging from Ms shoulders. Everything he had ever done was wrong, he said. Everything that people had done to him was wrong, that he affirmed; nor had he any hope that matters would mend, for life was poisoned at the fountainhead, and there was no jus tice anywhere. Forty-nine years of here and there, and in and out, and up snd down; walking all kinds of roads In all kinds of weather, meet ing this sort of person and that sort, and many an adventure that came and passed away without any good to it—"and now," said he, sternly, "I am breaking stones on a byway." THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1913 "A byroad, such as this," said I, "hag very few travelers, and lt may prove a happy enough -retreat." "Or a hiding place," said he gloom ily. We sat quietly for a few moments. "Is there no way of being happy?" said I. "How could you be happy if you have not got what you want?" and he thumped solidly with his hammer. "What do you want?" I asked. "Many a thing," was his reply; many a thing." I squatted on the ground in front of him. HIS COMPLAINT He rested his hammer and stared sideways down the road and re mained so, pursing and relaxing his lips, for a little while. At last he said in a low voice: "A person wants respect from other people. If he doesn't get that, what does he signify more than a goat or a badger? We live by what folk think of us, and if they speak badly of a man doesn't that finish him forever?" "Do people speak well of you?" I asked. "They speak badly of me," said he, "and the way I am now I wouldn't have them say a good word for me at all " j "Would you tell me why the people 'speak badly of out?" "Tou are traveling down the road," said he, "and I am staying where 1 am. We never met before in all the years, and we may never meet again, and so I'll tell you what Is in my mind. A person that has neighbors will have either .friends or enemies, and it's likely enough that he'll have the last unless he has a meek spirit. And it's the same thing with a man that's married, or a man that has a brother. For the neighbors will spy on you from dawn ito dark, and talk about you in every place, \nd a wife will try to rule you ln the house and out of the house until you are badg ered to a skeleton, and a brother will ask you to give him whatever thing you value most in the world." He remained silent for a few min utes, with his hammer eased on his knee, and then, in a more heated strain, he continued: "There are three things a man doesn't like. He doesn't like to be spied on, and he doesn't like to be ruled and regulated, and he doesn't like to be asked for a thing he wants himself. And whether he lets him self be spied on or not he'll be talked about, and in any case he'll be made out to be a queer man; and if he lets his wife rule he'll be scorned and laughed st, and # lf he doesn't let her rule him he'll be called a rough man; and if he once gives to his brother he will have to keep on giv Simple, Oh, Very, Very Simple (Copyright. 1913, by International News Service) Enters—a Little Relative (Copyright. 1913, by International Newt Serrice) ing forever, and If he doesn't give' at all he'll get the bad name and the sour look as he goes about his busi ness." "You have had neighbors, Indeed," said I. "I'd call them that," • "And a brother that would ask you for a thing you wanted yourself wouldn't be a decent man." i "He would not." HIS WIFK * "Tell me," said I, "what kind of a wife have you?" "She's the same as any one chic's wife to look at, but I fancy the other women must be different to live with." "Why do you say that?" "Because you can hear men laugh ing and singing in every saloon that you'd go into, and they wouldn't do that. If their wives were hard to live with, for nobody could stand a bad comrade. A good wife, a good brother, a good neighbor—these are three good things, but you don't find them lying in every ditch." "If you went to a ditch for your wife!" said I. He pursed up his Hps at me. "I think." said I, "that you need not mind the neighbors so very much. If your mind were in a glass case in stead of in a head it would be dif ferent, but no one can spy on you but yourself, and no one can really rule and regulate you but yourself, and that's well worth doing." A Cheap Ticket (Registered United States Patent Of flee) i "Different people," said he, shortly '"are made, differently." "Maybe," said I, "your wife would be a good wife to some other hus band, and your brother might be_ ;de cent enough if he had a different brother." He wrinkled up tils eyes and looked at me very steadily:' THE PARTING "I'll be saying ; goodby. to you. young man," said"he, and he raised his hammer again -and began to beat solemnly on the stones. I stood by him for a few minutes, but as he neither spoke nor looked at me again. I turned to my own path, Intending to strike Dublin by the pass of Dana and the long slopes be yond them. HOUSEHOLD SU6GESTIONS Brown stockings shoufjl"never be Ironed, but just passed .'through the* mangle to smoth them out.' A hot iron will spoil the color and give them an unpleasant yellow tint. Celery or parsley rubbed,- on the hands after peeling onions will coun teract the odor. Lemon, borax or am monia is excellent for removing stains from tha hands. The best way to keep a dustbin fresh and clean is to put hot ashes lnto.it each time It has been emptied. It keeps It quite cleau and fres from air smells. Up-to-Date Jokes .An ardent g"blfer who was a very middling player was paying his an nual visit to St. Andrew*, and re marked to his caddie: "By the way, I played a round with Tom McGregor the last time I was here. Grand player, ..McGregor!" "Aye!" said the cad died, "but ye could , bate McGregor nao." "Do you indeed think ap?" ex t 9MmmmWmWmmmmWmmmtmMm^ he Cheerful Life It ni the right ef everyone to lire and enjoy the cheer fel Hl*. We ••• 1 I it to earsehres mi those whe Ut« with oa to live the cheerful life. W«, cuMt de ac if m health takes hold ef us. . The wife, ■tether and daughter suffering fress set lashes, ■■rriii hesaacas, haehacae. itesggms-dowa foeMaef. ar any ether weakaeia due a» al—laWt 'er hi—alatalla* ef the aeboate feaaale ergmaa—ia net ealy a burden te heraeif. ant «• her awed ee«s. Ttmwim m >iiaa>. rwrtr raan im art am i aas lanna aeaaiaiaiahlj thai DR. PIERCES Favorite prescription . wtN ras*ato,»esßS* t? ■Maaaaa mii. Pcs 49 jmi a ana a—an I arajaalaa away a—i anlni. gaMaa iinl i laaitia iha aajeaset %aa»»Za— i I pr. Fhrw> PieuyasK Psjßsjt* rt*r»Us* VMf irrriar%w a L I 1 mtmmmk. Br**' mmm hmwti, Smgmr itwUMa. Omy yrtMi^ 17 claimed the gratified visitor, well aware of Mr. McGregor's proWess. "00, aye," responded the caddU "For, ye see. McGregor's deld." Oabbleton—Edison declares that four hours' sleep per night is cr.vug ; for any man. Kidder —By Jove! That is exactly whst my baby thinks.