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Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, September 05, 1913, Image 6

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What Witt Become of Annie?
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
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
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
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
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
. . 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
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
The gang
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
. till
An. Father., she 3Aio.iie
WA5 50.30 GOOD TO «£ .AL
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;
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
"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
"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?"
"George R.?" asked, Father Daugh

"Yes, your rlverence," said
men hopefully. "It should go back to
'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.
"None of It belongs to you, then, I
suppose?" observed Father Daugh
"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
"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
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
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
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
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
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
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'»
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
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
"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
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
"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
say your
I am tired of pray
Proper Kind.
Amateur Cowboy—I want to get a
writer to describe how I scoured th*
Friend—Then why not get a scrub
"Dear me!" exclaimed the fond fath
er, anxiously, "Whatever can be the
matter with the baby?—It isn't ' cry
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
In a
as a.
"In three months I had gained twen
ty pounds in weight. I now use Pos
of tea and cof
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
"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.

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