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oq»Do What Witt Become of Annie? By BRAND WHITLOCK AUTHOR OF "THE THIRTEENTH DISTRICT," "HER INFINITE VARIETY," "THE HARRT AVERAcà" "THE TURN OF THE BALANCE," ETC, ETC t QD»Dp Copyright by The Bobba-Merrill Oouyputy PRING had come back to Leadam street. The moist cobblestones had steam ed in the new sun all the afternoon; sparrows were sweeping up to the eaves, trailing strings, and long straws after them; from the back porches of the flats were loud, awak ing, tinny sounds, breaking the long silence. The clank of the cable-cars was borne over the roofs, clearly now in the damp, heavy atmosphere; from somewhere came the jingle of a street piano. Floating down the mild after noon came the deep, mellow note of some big propeller, loosing her winter moorings at last and rousing to greet the tug that would tow her out of the narrow river. 'Kelley, the policeman, strolled along the sidewalk, with his hands locked behind him, his nose In the air, sniffing, eagerly and pleasur ably. He had loft off his skirted over coat, and changed his clumsy cap for his helmet Annie had sat at her window all the afternoon, but, as the spring day wore toward Its close, she began to realize that only the melancholy, and none of the promise of this first spring day had touched her. She had thrown open the window, to test the quality of the air. Now and then a warm breath came wandering In off the prairies, though when it met the cold, persistent wind from the lake, It hesi tated, and timidly turned back. But Annie would not let herself doubt that the spring had com?. She knew that in time the prairie wind would woo its way until It would be playing with the waves of the lake Itself, the little waves that danced all day, blue and wblte, In the sunshine. And then the summer would come, and on Sunday afternoons Jimmy would take her out to Lincoln Park and they would have their supper at Fisher's Garden. Leadam street was dull enough on week days; on Sundays it was wholly mournful. Once Annie saw a woman, with a' shawl over her head and a tin bucket In her hand, go Into Englehardt's place, down the street. The woman went In furtively, and brushed hastily through the "Family Entrance," 1 though why could not be told. 8he went there nearly every hour of every day. Then Annie was left alone. She did not turn Inward to the flat; that was too still and lonesome, and It was growing dark now, as the shadows gathered. She heard the strenuous gongs of the cable-cars over in State street, and she could Imagine the crowds, gay from their Sunday holi day, that filled them, clinging even to the runnlng-bonrdB. She might have gone out and been with them, as ev ery one else in the street seemed to have done, but she would not for worlds have been away from home when Jimmy came. She heard the Jingle of the street piano, too; she wished it would come down that way. She would gladly have emptied her purse for the Dago. It was not unusual fot Annie to be left alone, and she had grown used to It—almost; as used as a woman can —even the wife of a politician Jimmy has told her that she must not worry at any of hla absences; an alderman could never tell what might detain him. She had but a vague no tion of the things that might detain an alderman, though she had no doubt of their Importance. At times she thought she felt an Intimate little charm In the Importance that thus re flected Itself upon her, but, neverthe less, her heart was never quiie easy until she heard Jimmy's step on the stair and his key In the latch, and then—Joy came to the little flat, and stayed there, trembling and fearful, until he went away again. She had grown to be so dependent on Jimmy. Ever since she had been graduated from the convent his great, strong personality had stood between her and the world, so that, as her girlhood had merged Into womanhood, she bad hardly recognized the change, and she remained a girl still, alone but for him; he was her whole life. She had doubted his entrance into politics at first, just as she had doubted his go ing into the saloon business, though she scarcely understood either in their various significances. Father Daugh erty had told her she waB a fortunate girl to have Jimmy for a husband, and that had been enough. Her only ob jection was that politics seemed to keep Jimmy away from home oftener than the old work in the packing house used to; she had trembled at It at times, and at times had grown a little frightened. His success in poli tics had pleased her, of course, and * made her proud, but It could not have made her prouder of him than she had been. He was all-sufficient for her; no change could make any differ ence. could she have done? He had never been gone so long before; here It was Sunday evening; he had left at eleven o'clock Saturday morning; there was to be an extra session of the council Saturday night, an unusual thing, and «he had not been surprised when she awoke to find that it was Sunday morning—and that Jimmy had not come. The mofning wore away, and she had made all the arrangements for the dinner she would have awaiting him. She had gone about' lightly, hap pily, all the day, singing to Wself, the gladness of the new spring in her. But, one by One. all the tasks she could think of were performed, even to drawing the water for his bath and laying out his clean linen. And then, when there was nothing else to do but wait, and nothing with which to beguile her waiting, she had takes her post at the window to watch for his cab. The day waned, the Sunday drew wearily toward Sts close, as If It sigh ed for Monday, and the resumption of active life. The street grew stiller and stgler. g he heard the voice of a . V-, MEPWIWII . . wiihoii* Jimmy, what newsboy, far out of his usual haunts, crying an extra. She could not distin guish the words In which he bawled his tidings, and she thought nothing of it. One of Jimmy's few rules was that she was not to read the papers. But. when the heavy voice was gone, she found that it had had a strange, de pressing effect upon her; she longed for Jimmy to come; the day had dragged itself by so slowly, and some thing of its somberness bad stolen into her soul. She sighed, and leaned her chin on her arm; her back was growing tired, and beginning to ache. Then suddenly shq heard horses' hoofs and the roll of a carriage In the street. She rose and leaned far out of the window to welcome him. The cab drew up; It stopped; the 'door opened. But the man Who got out was not Jimmy. It was Father Daugherty. She knew him the Instant she saw the fuzzy old high hat thrust out of the cab, and, caught the greenish sheen the shabby cassock that stood away from the fringe of white hair on his neck In such an Ill-fitting, 111-becoming fashion. The old man did not look up, but tottered across the sidewalk. Annie gasped, and scarce could move. In a moment more she heard the old steps on the stairs, the steps that for forty years had gone on so many errands for others, kind and merciful errands all of them, though for the most part sad. He was soon beside her, and she looked up into the gentle face that was so full of the woes of humanity. He had driven at once from the hospital In the cab they had sent to fetch him. Jimmy's last words had been: "What will become of Annie?" The death of Alderman Jimmy Tier nan at any time Would have been a shock. When death came to him by a pistol ball It created what the news papers, In thl columns they were so glad to fill that Monday morning, de fined as a profound sensation. This sensation was most profound In two circles in the city, outwardly uncon nected, though bound by ties which It was the constant and earnest effort of both to keep secret and unknown. The city council had had a special session on Saturday night, and had passed the new gas franchise. Aider man Tieman had had charge of the k fight. Malachl Nolan was away, and Baldwin had picked out Tiernan as the most trustworthy and able of those of the gang who were left be hind. Jimmy had felt the compliment, and gloried In It. It was the biggest thing that had fallen to him in his political life, and he was determined that be would makrf all there was to be made out of ttm opportunity. Not in any base or sordid sense—that is. not wholly so; that would come, of course, but he felt beyond this a joy in his work; the satisfaction of mere success would be his chief reward, the glory and the professional pride he would feel. He relished the fight against the newspapers, against "pub lic opinion," whatever that was; against the element that called Itself the "better" element. He was fully determined that no step should be misplaced; he count ed his men over and over again; he checked them off mentally, and It all turned out as he had said. Every one was present, every one voted, and vot ed "right," when the roll was called; the new gas franchise was granted; Jimmy had delivered the goods. It was natural that such a glorious victory should be celebrated, and the gang, when it assembled In Jimmy's plaoe. Immediately after the session was over, could not restrain Its impa tience. The boys longed to have the fruits of the day's work; with their wages they could celebrate with glad, care-free hearts. But Jimmy wbb of a Gaelic cunning. He would not Jeopar dize the victory at that stage by any indiscretion. He saw at a glance the mood the gang was In. He smiled, as he always smiled—and anyone, to see his smile, must have loved him—but he shook his head. "The drink's In you, boys," he said, "and you can't trust your tongues. You'll have to wait. Monday night you'll be over. Then we'll talk busi ness.!' of Subconsciously, they still were so ber; in a strange dual mentality they saw the safety there was In hls de cision; and. in the paralysis of will his magnetism worked in them, they loved him the more for it. They re membered that it was just what Mala chl would have done. And so, noisy and excited as they were, they ap plauded his sagacity. Then they gave themselves over unreservedly to their appetites. It was a famous night In the annals of the gang. Jimmy him self joined in the revelry. And in the calm, silent Sunday morning, with the new sunlight of spring glaring In his swollen, aching eyes, he found him self, with a companion. In a Clark street chop house. Just as they were going to order breakfast, a young man came in, with a black look in his eyes. No one saw it then, though they all remembered It afterward. Jimmy greeted him as gayly as he greeted everybody, but the young man did not warm to Jimmy's greeting. There were words, the quick rush of anger to Jimmy's face, a blow, and the pistol shot. At first the newspapers were glad to trace, some sinister connec tion between the franchise fight and the tragedy. Afterward, they said it was only some private grudge. No one dreamed that Jimmy Tiernan had an enemy on earth. At the hospital, Jimmy opened his eyes, and on his face, grown very white, there was a smile again, the last of his winning smlies. Hls friends were with him, and they wept, un ashamed. Then he rolled hls head on his pillow, and spoke of Annie. The calm Sister of Charity pressed her rosary into his hand, and stooped to listen. They had just time to send for Fatter Daugherty. Down In the ward, the sadness that had come to Leadam street spread blackly. Many a man, and many a woman, and many a child, cried, poor had loat a friend, and they would not soon forget him. In the long days of the distant winter they would think of him over and over. Every ono In that ward was poor, though the re formers, condescending that way whenever Jimmy was up for re-elec tion, somehow never grasped the real significance of the fact. And It was a somber Monday around the city hall. Jimmy had been a man with a genius for friendship, mourned him in a sadness that 1 The gang had added to It the remorse of a rebent sobriety, but their grief, genuine ns it was, had in it an evil bitterness their hearts would not have owned. They were restive and troubled. Whenever they got together In little groups, :hey read consternation in one another's faces; and now and then they cursed the caution they had extolled on Sat urday night. Besides these varieil ef fects, Jimmy's death, whlje it cauld not create a crisis in the market, nevertheless gave rise to nervous feelings in certain segments ot finan cial circle» It was Inevitable that financial and political circles should overlap and Intersect each other in this matter, and there were confer ences which seemed to reflect a s snse of personal resentment atj Jimmy having been murdered so inopportune ly. In the end, the financiers wej-e peremptory with Baldwin. He must fix the thing some way. And he as sured them that he would give the appointment of the administrator bis immediate attention. Already, be naid, he had a man in view who would be reasonable and practical. There were suggestions of strong-handed mettods, but that was never George R. Bald win's way. He went out with hii air of affability unimpaired. Meanwhile, political and financial circles could only wait and hope. The excitement of the first few days following the tragedy kept An nie's mind occupied; but, when the funeral was over, and she returned to her little flat, when the neightorly women had at last gone back to their homes and their interrupted duties, and the world to its-work, Annie was for mËM Ilfs 9 $11 irsSi Ils |f§!|\ Itlli ■■■ . till lUflr -/I Ptl An. Father., she 3Aio.iie WA5 50.30 GOOD TO «£ .AL WAYS lATID 30 MUD ! " .MM. AIM left to face life alone. She could not adjust herself to the change, and fear and despair added their blackness to her grief. Father Daugherty knew how great a blow Jimmy's death would be to her, and, though he save What comfort he could, he left her grief to time. He did not belong to the preaching orders. But, as he pon dered In his wise old head, he shrewd ly guessed that the careless Jimmy would hardly have made prov.sion against anything so far from his thoughts as death, and he perceived that if Annie were,to be protected from a future with which she, alone and unaided, would hardly have the capacity to deal, some one must act. Long ago might Father Daugherty have celebrated his silver jubile? as pastor of St. Patrick's, but he wan not the man for celebrations. The parish was one big family to him, and he knew the joys and sorrows, the little hopes and pathetic ambitions of every one In It. The sorrows of his chil dren he bore In his own heart; they had wrought their complex and ttagic tale In his face. The joys he left them to taste alone; but he found too much sorrow to have time for joy* During all those years he had given himself unsparingly; if It was al he had to give. It was the most previous thing he could have given—a pally sacrifice that exhausted a tempera ment keenly sensitive and sympa thetic. So he had grown old and white before his time. Many a man had he kept straight when times were hard and the right to work denied him; many a widow had he saved from the wiles of the claim-agent. The corporations and the lawyers hated him. # And so, on Monday morning, the clerks of the probate court had scarcely had time to yawn reluctant ly before beginning a new week's work, when Father Daugherty appear ed to file Annie's waiver of her own right to be appointed administratrix of the estate of James Tiernan, deceased, with an application for the appoint ment, Instead, of Francis Daugherty as administrator. spectful and sympathetic attttuds dur lng the few exciting days when It was paying its last conventional tributes to the dead man, but It kept 1 "He must keep a set of blanks," whispered one clerk to another. As Father Daugherty went aboiit his Inventory, he saw that the result would be what he had expected. Jim my had left no estate, no inBunnce, nothing hut the saloon. And that, with Jimmy dead, was nothing, for Its value lay all In Jimmy's personality and the Importance of his position In politics. The fixtures would hirdly pay for the burying of him. When the debts the law prefers had been paid, Annie would have scarce a pen ny. The world might preserve a re counts meanwhile, and it could not long pretend to have f«gotten mate rial things. It would present its bills, and 'they qtust be paid. Annie would have hardly a cent to meet them with. And Father Daugherty knew, even if Annie did not know, what the world would do then. Yet he smiled, though he shook his head, as he thought of the free-hand ed, tndiscrlminating generosity that had been akin to the Improvidence of Jimmy's nature. And now he had but one more duty to perform; the safe in Jimmy's saloon had not been open ed. No one, not even the bartender, knew the combination, and Father Daugherty bad a locksmith to drill the lock. The gang had attended Jim my's funeral in black neckties, and had mourned him sincerely, but, now that he was buried, their attitude be came the common worldly attitude, with perhaps a little more than the usual aggressiveness in it. They were in a quandary as to the bundle in the new gas franchise, and many confer ences with Baldwin had nerved them to desperate expedients. So it was on Baldwin's advice that they determined to be represented at the opening of the safe. Two of the number were de tailed to this duty, McQuIrk of the Ninth, and Bretzenger of the Twenty fourth. When they made their de mand on Father Daugherty, explaining that they came h. their capacity as Jimmy's neatest ^ friends, he assented with a readiness that relieved them both, and delighted Bretzenger, though McQuIrk, who knew Father Daugherty better than his colleague did, was fearful and suspicious. Father Daugherty said that he had thought of having witnesses, and they would servo as well as any. It was very kind of them. The priest and the two aldermen waited In the saloon for two hours while the locksmith drilled away si lently. The street door was closed; the crape still hung from the handle that had never gone unlatched so long at a time before, the curtains were drawn, and outside the crowds forever shuffled by on the sidewalk, all obliv ious to the little drama of hopes and fears that was unfolding its cross-pup poses within. The saloon was dark, Father Daugherty's their hands, and together, in strange unison, wiped their brows. The room had suddenly grown hot for them, and their brows were wet, though Father Daugherty was cool and composed, as he ever was. Yet they remembered; they could not so easily give up; It was theirs hr every right They could and au electric bulb glowed to Bhed light for the locksmith. The two al dermen puffed their cigars in silence, save for an occasional whisper, one with another, gaunt form leaned against the dusty bàr, strangely out of keeping with such a scene, though the saloons In his parish knew him, especially on Saturday nights, when he conducted little raids of his own, and turned his prisoners over to their wives. Now his weary visage was relaxed In pa tient waiting. At last the locksmith dropped bis tools, and said; "There!" The thick steel doors swung out on their noiseless hinges. The two alder men sprang to the side of the safe. The priest drew near slowly, but his little eyes were turned on the aider men, and they fell back a pace. Then the priest's long figure sank to a kneeling posture, and he peered into the safe. There was nothing In view. It was strangely empty, for a safe of Its monstrous size and mystery, and the tenacity-of its combination. He thrust in his hand and fumbled through all Its hollow Interior, and then he drew forth—a «oiled linen col lar! It was ludicrous, and for once he laughed, a little laugh. There was not a ledger, not a book. "He kept no accounts, your rlver ence," said McQuirk. "It was just like him," said Father Daugherty. But he kept on with his search. And, when he opened the lit tle drawer of maplewood, he found a parcel, done snugly up In thick brown paper. He tore It open, and there swelled Into his sight packages of bank notes almost bursting In their yellow paper straps. The bills were new, and as freshly green as the spring Itself; more tempting thus, some way, to the reluctant con science. The two aldermen bent over the black, stooping figure of the priest, their eyes fixed on the money. There it was at last, the bundle Itself, the price of, or a part of the price of the new gas franchise. The priest straightened painfully, and got to hls feet. He held the bundle In hls thin fingers, and glanced at hls witnesses, with a keen and curious eye. They met hls gaze, expectant, eager, draw ing dry, hot breaths. Involuntarily, they extended their hands. Father Daugherty looked at them, and a lit tle twinkle of amusement showed In the eyes that were wontedly so mild and sad. "Would you?" ho said. The two aldermen hastily raised have cursed Jimmy Just then for his excessive caution. It was McQuirk's quick mind that thought first. "Maybe there's wrljlng," he said. Father Daugherty looked long and thoroughly, running his thin hand deep into pigeon-holes and back Into the partitions, until the sleeves of his shabby coat were pushed Jar up his lean wrist "Not a scrap," he said. "Then, maybe—'' But McQuIrk drew Bretzenger away, and they went Into the darkness that lay thick as dust in the back of the long room. Mean while, Father Daugherty searolfed the safe through and through. He found nothing more. The strong-box had had but one purpose, and it had served It well. Then slowly, gainfully, with the clumsy, unaccustomed fingers that had had small chance to count money, he turned the packages over, counting them carefully, wetting his trembling fingers now and then. The man who had drilled the safe stood looking on, with eyes that widened more and more. "How much is there, Father?"' he said, at length. He extended a grimy forefinger hesitatingly, as If to touch the package the priest balanced on his palm. But he did not touch It, any more than If It had been something sacred in that clean, sacerdotal hand. "Fifty thousand," the priest an swered. His voice was a trifle husky. "Fifty thousand!" the man claimed. And then he added, in awe: "Dollars! Doesn't look like that much, does It?" "No," Father Daugherty answered. He had been a little surprised him self. There was something disappoint ing in the size of the package. He had never seen so much money be fore, and its tremendous power, its tremendous power for evil, as he sud denly thought, was concentrated In a compass so small that the mind could but slowly wheel about to the new con ception. The locksmith spoke. "Might I—might I—hold It a sepond —In my own hand?" he said. The .priest gave the bundle into the hand hardened by bo much honest toll. The man held It, heaving it up and down incredulously, testing Its weight. Then he gave It back. "Thanks," he said, and sighed. The two aldermen had returned from their little conference. "Your rlverence," began McQuIrk hesitatingly, "might we have a word with you—In private?" He looked sus piciously at the workman. The ■priest went with them a little way apart. "We know about that," McQuIrk pointed to the bundle. "You do, do you?" said the priest sharply. "Yes. father," Bretzenger said. "It's—it's—well, it belongs to the company, sir." "What company?" "Well, you know, the new ga—ah, that is, Mr. Baldwin, the lawyer. You know him?" ex "George R.?" asked, Father Daugh ■ erty. "Yes, your rlverence," said men hopefully. "It should go back to him." 'The priest looked at, them, and they caught again that amused expression In his face. It put them ill at ease, and It roused resentment In Bretzen ger, who felt that this calm priest could read him too well. both "None of It belongs to you, then, I suppose?" observed Father Daugh erty. "Ah. well—of course," McQuirk urged, and his tone showed that he wag trying, in his crude way, to im press the priest with an honest dis interestedness. "Of course, Jimmy was entitled to his piece." "Sure!" Bretzenger said, swelling with the little virtue he had found to help him. "But you say It ought to go back to Baldwin, eh?" "That's what we think, sir," they chimed. "Well, he can come and identify it," said Father Daugherty. He slowly wrapped the package up. and, unbut toning his long, rusty coat a little way down from the throat, stuffed the money into an inner pocket. The deed seemed to madden Bretzenger, and he moved a step forward. The two others saw his motion. The priest did not move, but he turned a look on them, and raised his hand, and McQuirk quailed, a superstitious fear in his eyes. He stiffened his arm be fore Bretzenger, and stayed him. And then the priest stepped quietly to the safe, and pushed its door to with an arm \that seemed too weak and frail to stir the heavy steel. ''It look* to me, Michael," he was saying gently, as If addressing Mc Quirk alone, "like personal property, and, as I'm the .administrator, I sup pose I'll have to take charge of it. If any beside our- dead friend own it, let them come forward and prove their claim, and identify their property In open court." Father Daugherty reported the whole affair to the probate court, and the judge when the time for filing claims had elapsed, and he had waited for the particular claim he knew would not be presented, ordered a dis tribution of the property. Then Fa ther Daugherty went to the fiat to see Antaie, bearing the bundle, the original bundle, the bundle that had bought the new gas franchise. Something\of the dramatic quality In the situation had got into the old priest's heart He knew that Annie would appreciate it all so much better if she could see the fortune, and feel It, and he would let her do so for an Instant before he put It away in the safety deposit vaults to await opportunity for Its in vestment. She looked at It long and long, ly ing there in th© lap of her black gown. She could not grasp the amount, though the old priest, leaning forward, with the enthusiasm of a boy shining once more, after so many years, in his hollow eyes, said over and over: "Look at It, my child! Feel it! It's fifty thousand dollars! And It's all yours!" She patted It, tenderly and affec tionately, with a soft and reminiscent caress, so that the priest knew that it was not for anything that package of money might hold for her In a material way. then or afterward, but rather for what it gave back for a moment to her desolated heart And t the priest was glad of that, and there after silent. He had had doubts. He would feel better when the money had passed out of his hands, and he sometlmek questioned whether It would ever do good In any one's hands. But .he had a sense of humor, too, a grim sense in this instance, when he «bought of certain political and financial circles, even If be did dust his tl>in hands carefully with his spotless handkerchief when he laid the money down. Annie's eyes had filled with the ready tears that welled to their sweep ing, black lashes, and trembled there as she raised her eyes to him. "Ah, father," she said, "he was so, so good to me, always—and so kind! And see how thoughtful he was—to leave me all this! Oh, Jimmy, my poor Jimmy!" And she rocked forward, like an old woman, and wept THE ADVANCEMENT OF ART Economic Inquiry, Conducted Along Scientific Lines, Meane Much to the Human Race. Notwithstanding the growth in re cent years of the work of the geologi cal survey along practical economic lines, scientific work has not been neglected, according to the annual re port of the director for last year. In fact, in the survey the scientific Inves tigations are inseparable from the economic work, though the one or the other may predominate in purpose ac cording to the needs of the particular research In hand. In any field econo mic work of the highest rank Is im possible without full knowledge of the scientific laws and principles pertain ing to the subject of the work, but as there is no application of geology which does not involve unsolved prob lems, some of them of the highest Im portance, the best knowledge available Is nevertheless relative. It thus fol lows that the broad and searching observations which should accompany every piece ot good economic work comprehend data that are eventually combined la the construction of new scientific hypotheses, some ot which, more observations accumulate, grow Into established laws or princi ples that are In turn of the greatest practical consequence. Thus the de tailed studies of the metalliferous de posits In one region or another bring to light evidence from which to deter mine the genesis of the ores and the modes or conditions by their occur rence, and the economic inquiry be comes more Intelligent and successful when once this new principle regard ing the mode of an ore occurrence Is understood. STRONG, BUT OLD IN YEARS History Replete With Recorde of Men Who Have Done Great Things Be yond Their Allotted Space. There are some old men who are not to be despised. Some are apt to think that none but young men can do much. Some, indeed, shoot up like a rocket, and go out like one. Others rise slowly, like fixed stars, and as they are slow to rise they are slow to set. Cromwell was only a captain when he was forty-one, and his greatest deeds were performed between forty eight and fifty-six, when he died. Young was an old man when he wrote some of his best poetry, and he waB sixty when he began his "Night Thoughts." Thomas Scott wrote as much at seventy as at any period of his life. Talleyrand at the age of eighty stood at the head ot affairs In FYance under iQapoleon, and then under the Bourbons. When the Russians were deter mined to make a stand and fight the French before the walls of Moscow, they put old Kutsof at the head of the army in place of Barclay de Tolly. General Blucher was seventy when he was defeated at Ligny and fell under his horse, and the French cav alry rode over him; yet a day or two after be led on his Prussians against Napoleon at Waterloo. After many years of warfare, those old men, Well ington and Soult, stood at the head of their respective cabinets, one in England and the other In France, pre serving by their talents the peace of Europe and the world. Socrates and Beauty. All visitors to the museums of Rome become familiar with the busts ot Socrates. Whe does not recognize at first glance the almost comic face with Its turn-up nose and utter ab sence of the slightest claim to good looks? We cannot help smiling at it and yet when> we think of the man, the ugliness of his face becomes pa thetic. He worshiped beauty, his life was devoted to teaching how life could be made harmonious In every way and such a nose must. In spite of hls philo sophy, have been a constant trial to him. Hls prayer was: "Grant me to be beautiful in the Inner man and all I have of outward things to be at peace with those within. May I count the wise man only rich' and may my store of gold be such as none but the good can bear." He counted material wealth without wealth of spirit a nftcksry and to have outward beauty without Inward beauty was to be an imposter. All the same, to have one's inward beauty so denied by one's face muBt have been very an noying ahd our Bmile at Socrates may well be mixed with a little sympathy. Hava Analyzed Gases. By the use of a new German instru ment, which takes the index of refrac tion of mixed gases, Haber and Lowe are able to find the amount of carbon dioxide and methane contained mine gases. Tbe method Is also use ful in many other cases, such as for benzol vapors In the gas distilled by gas oif coke plants, also sulphurous anhydride in the gases coming from pyrites roasting,'as well as percent ages of ozone In the air. They are also able to check the purity of hydro gen made by the electrolytic process, observe the gases In human breath and carry out other very useful teats. We desire to be classified According to our exceptional virtues; we are apt to classify our neighbor according to hls exceptional fault*.—Henry Bates Diamond. SMILES NOT FOR "FLASHY"' Masculine Charmer Convinced He Had Made a Mash, but He Had Wrong Impression. ' "I got a good one on Flashy." said ^ Squirt as he shot the fine stream into the Ice cream soda and pushed it over the marble counter. "Who and what?" asked Squirt'» friend. "You Squirt. "He of the Ice cream suit and high browed hat. He was slttln' in here this afternoon when up floats the classiest little dame you ever saw and stops right outside the window. She cocks her head over on one side and smiles, her face right up close to the glass. Flashy tightened up his wash tie find straightened up his coat lapels. All the time the girl was smilin' and rubbln' her nose with the palm of her band. "Flashy smiled back two or three times and then he up and dusts out the door. Right up to her he went and purses up hie pretty lips and lifts his hat. Say, you ought to have seen that girl do the rockbound glide away. She elevated her nose on a level with her eyes and drifted right off down the street "Flashy was crushed. The woman had a powder rag palmed In her hand. She had been smilin' at her self In the plate glass.'' « Flashy," continued know Love Will Find a Way. The young couple hastened into the Union station. It was very patent that they were not married. They were al together too chummy for that. They went out qnto the platform and stood and talked for a minute, when he took her In his arms and kissed her fondly and again hurried away toward a train. "What do you think of that?" In quired one of the attachée of the sta tion. "That looks all right. Why?" "They do that three or four times a week. They think that everybody else will think that he Is going away on a long journey, but be has never got on a train yet He simply walks around back of the train and disappears. He gets his kiss all right, though." Buffalo Lacking In Sympathy. An old resident of Heizer, Kan.„ speaking of the early days on the Kan sas plains, writes: "On one trip that we took after Buffalo hides we had with ue an Englishman fresh from London. The main herd of buffalo had Just passed through and aa the hunt ers had been after their hides, every where on highland and lowland were the skinned carcasses of buffalo. The Englishman was amazed at the waste of meat. Finally, seeing a small herd of old bulls traveling along, he arose to his feet and, taking off his hat. said: "Boys, thiB is awful! I should think that the living buffalo would la ment to see their comrades lying thus!" Alike In Education. All the world will soon be akin, a» far as education is concerned, as even the Hindu girlB, from kindergarten to college, are following the same coursé of study as their American slsteçs. The little children have bright papery and heads and "gifts," while their big' Bisters In the college at Baroda study the ologies, with either Hindu or Amer ican teachers. Its Readers Are Legion. "Has Judkins' paper much of a cir culation?" "Has it? I don't suppose there 1» a straphanger In this entire town that isn't a subscriber to It." Vain Prayers. "Aren't you going to prayers, Willie?" "No, I'm not. ing for this family without getting results."—Life. say your I am tired of pray Proper Kind. Amateur Cowboy—I want to get a writer to describe how I scoured th* plains. Friend—Then why not get a scrub writer? Serious. "Dear me!" exclaimed the fond fath er, anxiously, "Whatever can be the matter with the baby?—It isn't ' cry ing!"—Puck. AN OLD NUREE Persuaded Doctor to Drink Postum. An old faithful nurs? and an exper ienced doctor, are a pretty strong com bination in favor of Postum, Instead of tea and coffee. The doctor Bald: "I began to drink Postum five years ago on the advice of an old nurse. "During an unusually busy winter, between coffee, tea and overwork, I became a victim of insomnia, month after beginning Postum, in place of tea and coffee, I could eat anything and sleep as soundly baby. In a as a. "In three months I had gained twen ty pounds in weight. I now use Pos of tea and cof tum altogether instead fee; eVen at bedtime with a sow cracker or some other tasty biscuit "Having a little tendency to Diabe tes, I used a small quantity of sacchar ine Instead of sugar, to sweeten with. I may add that tbday tea or coffee are never present in our house and very many patients, on my advice, have adopted Postum as their regular bev erage. "In conclusion I can assure anyone that, as a refreshing, nourishing and nerve strengthening beverage, there is nothing equal to Postum." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Write for booklet, "The Road to Well ville." PoBtum comes In two forms. Regular (must be boiled). Instant Postum doesn't require boll ingbüTls prepared Instantly by stir ring a level teaspoontui in an ordinary . cup of hot water, which makes it right for most persona A big cup requires more and some people who like strong things put in a neaping spoonful and temper It with a large supply of cream. Experiment until , you know- the amount that pleases your palate and h>Te u ««rved that way la the future. There'* » Reason" tor Postum.