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my grasp and looking anxiously at it.
“But why this fervor?” , I- put Witch's precious ^pistlo in .ron of ’ m. He read it tw’ce through ten:.nvely, put it down, and looK.ng calmly at me, said: -Very Interesting! Bu' scarcely to be regarded as a prelude to very spe •:* matrimony, I should think." “Ah. but it is, air. A g-fl doesn c wri'e a note like that and have done with .!. No. she continues to write ft he col I shall probably get a •sim.rr note once *a month now, and that .wAI be very tiring. I give you my word “xhat I did not 3leep a w:nk las: night. The practice won’t stand that s~r: or thing long, you know,” said 1. earn.si ly. ! “You seem to.have an vurr.te.kTn’*. edge of wotmn and heir way.-*, he re marked dryly. I allowed that spe:ch to pass without comment. Ccaus nt seemed superflu ous. • I? I might ask. I sroul 1 like to know whom you would cons hr *n faint '.n .his little misunders• .td ng? he aslt “I am. sir. It smart’s "a reason: 1 should not be ?o anv i? f he were in i ult," and then 1 explained the whc.e M.atter. finishing with. T can : remem ber exactly what I call'd her, bu whatever it was I ■! ’n't n> ;in *T am not able to refresh your mem o- v as to wha' you sal I on ■? v ’caston. v a I can tell you wlr.t ] hire heard you call her myself, eaA ^‘r* Droit , c,ui-Uy. And then 1- told me. His tone was a revela on to mr. that I’d call Watch any hing worse than a “little fool.” Bnt I r alixe what ' must have sounded like to ‘he b‘ <irr md to him. her father’ I don t kne w how I looked, but I felt mean, cheap, worthless. Utterly so. I began to stum ble out apolegies. H wav 1 s han . “All right ” said he. “bn you see your language is at all times forcible. - t w ■*e r . in. > he said no mot •. He showed his wisdom therein, for l wen? at once to s e M -tch ;n a - prJ ro-* •rite frame of mind. I was ready to make a mat of myself and let my dar 1 rg trample en n>‘ If ’* shenid -o r.e > her. or do any o’her extravagant thing, such was the depth of my bumilUy. it. :i9 I JUUiurj V- t ^ dered a? to who could have s*:rr*1 up ,< • f ft> between us. Suddenly ii Da my mind that Witch had Ci-nred herself beside Aunt B sv Jane, and that Aunt Betsy Jane was : r g»d fere. I am net going to xplain how Aunt P.-ay Jan* came to W gc lmo ' r. I am not a lady rove st. fnd therefore don’t think it necessary .... do with this story: kwaes. 11 w only six years old when she was < hr. *tened and wasn’t consulted to her snonsors. To be sure, it must hav. been Aunt Betsy Jane who suggests . ,hWhenri arrived at rh* Cedars it wra a! out 12 o’clock. If ail went well peace -would reign bet we-n Witch aud my? .. nihouf Andif*>Iwonld^keher c? te Richmond, ge a boat from . - rani's, row up tl* > m r- °^n*' 0 ‘ h ■n » backwater I knew of between Rich 1 Hampton id n..... - the day. But 'hings d In ■ ,.v ih v went exceedingly badly in ^ aj. When Amelia (Amelia is th P urus’ housemaid) opened the ..cojr and -\I ,3 Drot’t is not well. s.r. but 111 "Zr :\fZZXi. 1r.n -ho-lnin* . This was ominous! in * — nVuit^’ menage it te customary to «e Lv who come on bu5lne*a-dre^ pCOy;’ Uundrcss s, servant* sr.kng tl e end of the bwn till you can see me, then t '• * ' .i came back. ‘‘If you pi a.-c. s.r. Mifca Drnitt does not feel l° f*° ,n* you to-day. but will wrue to you to Di"Exactly.” said T. QuiTly. "Can you give me sn envelope? Thanks. Give Ii it to M ss Druit;. please. The it lid left the room and I went into tin garden. At tb bottom of the gard en nn the riv r: chained o a post was n old beat. It was seldom used, as the spot was no; picturesque, but it was a. r'tid-1. hidden both from the hous* a a t -om passing boats, by thick droop ir.; willows. It wa*here that Witch and T had come to the conclusion that we could not live without each other. I sat down n the boat feeling v*ry much wroth wit i Witch, and bitter against Aunt Betsey Jane. I would have given much to know if she were in tbe house t that moment. 1 thought out all I ha.l heard of the days of her you a. I fd. mean and spiteful. I bethought n of an old incident in h* r life wherein A ,ut B. ts v .l ine had sad- l very mar ti w'nd and had had a narrow essaps of social wreck. I ought t,» ive forgo'ten it. but I Am no' fct :*• • Both morally and pV-s ;<• illy 1 .-t-monplac-. Th.it is to w»y. If I’r.i f k I hi*, back, or try to. Would TOO h.; v* it? I sat in that • \ * x p* v • n I got up and stretched it-vs !?, -ii !! v clock* It was nearly k and wti- n I beard the clock strike t wore to n If hat if Witch did not bi ■: :t: ng of t] qu If t r 1 would row the old boat down to the bridge, g ve a boy six pence to bring i back agslti and—well, when Witch w-nted me eh ' might send for uie. that was all! 1: f#Hist h ive be n very near the quar t .when T saw s? ding down the na~d her hend and shoulders wrapped un in a white cloud. nay Witch. \t least T bought so at first. But I so-n saw it wasnt. I: was seme one more kiu and 1 .. kind. Xev-r heU'ss as t*-e form drew nearer, peering about in the dusk, T sprang forward, caught h> r in my arms end kissed her. She had no breath with v Me*!! to utter a sound. She could only ! '.*%» to my ardent—far more ardent s n T(ever bt stowed on Witch—txpres sions jot -affection. “My darling!" I went ca. "! know you wouldn't have ever mad-' such a lit tle fool of vcurself if it hadn’t been for that malicious catamaran. Aunt Betsy Jare." The form within my arms struct^1'. I was holding her tiglrlv. or my face might have suffered. ‘But T’ll tell you a tale, dear, about her. I'm tha qply livng soul that known*, ft; w old t:-Kie is dead.*’ You couldn’t hear fhe form -breathe, so still It was. I went on: “ Vutrt Betsy Jane is 45 r^w'* - the form wrigg'ed— ‘•ab- nt *wcr.tT yer.rs ago—I could hear her heart beat. I relented--“No, Witch, i will not tell yon that slorvi You have come to m* and 1 can afford ’o pity Vm* B* - e i*me. She was badly u»**d when was young and she «'» t*ar to people happy now she Is old.'* » form mut?« red I .»ptnr ’ -rr yrx- “Wont to fetch *v;iohTC d«iar You shall. Only come ba- k at one- <*r f shall feel like telling that old uie aasat Annt Bet«T Jane * She scuttled eff to the bcaae and la a m'nute cr two Witch came dawn the garden In a very dignified manner. I v: her e?mf right to the edge of the water and peer about. I knew ahe cou.un’t- *ee me. Presently sae said, anxiously: "John. Mv heart 'humped, but I didn t intend -oVve myself away, so 1 simply said. "Weir” Brn she didn’t intend to give herself away, either. She turned. Th‘*:i 1 saw that I had my work cut out for me. •Stay. Witch. I’m in the boat. I ex claimed in a tone cf the deepest entrea ty, is I scrambled on shcre. She paus 1. 1 caught hold of her hand. ‘ Witch. 1 cried reproachfully. “I’ve been wait ing here for nearly eight hours and I am so faint I can hardly speak.'' That fetched her. A woman will go cheerfully for two hours without a crumb, do yard3 and yards of shopping on a halfpenny bun and think notutnc of it. but lei a man say he has missed His lunch an 1 they make as much fuss f>vf“r him as if he find suffered the mar tyrdom of St. Lawrence. “You poor thing!" exclaimed my darl ing. “Come in at once and have some thing to eat.” “N*>. Witch.” I said faintly but firm ly; you must forgive me.” “Forgive you! Of course I forgive you. I didn’t know you had be n here a that time. Do come in at once or you'll die. I know you will.” But I stuck to my guns and I didn’t go in doors until I had made W itch promise that we should be marri^l that u.vv month. Then I consented to go in i and work a mighty havoc among tha i eatables. Aunt Betsy Jane came to our wed - mg and iraue us a handsome present. Then she went to live with some triends la the Nor m I ‘nink th° pcor old -cul ho ! c :rausp'enon I knew her stcry, and so had tr : to part us. She took my note from Amelia in the morning 3aa kept it for that reason. My darling did not know 1 was in tie boat until Aunt Betsy came in from the garden and told her. But T have never told my wife a word. It isn't wis • to tell your wife all he little peccadilloes of your friends and relatives. -—o IN DREADI-TL SUSPENSE. A good yarn is o hand from the wilds of Australia, Two impecunious Scots men. travel!:-? north in search cf gold, came upon a saloon. They only had “.axptnce” l-tween them, so they or .erc 1 one “nip o' whusky.” Thi y were he.-irating who should have he fl’-'t drink, when an “aula" ac q-i dntnnce joined them. Pretending thy ha 1 just drank, one of them handed the in wcomer tho whisky, requesting him to join : item in a drink. He drank, aud alter a few minutes of painful silence and suspense said: ‘ Now, boys, you'll have one with me?” “Wa?na that well managed, mon?” said one to his pal afterward. “Ay. it was,” said ihe othe-, solemnly; “but It was a dreadfu' risk!”—Odds and Ends. -o— NOAH AND MONEY. • The filler, 1 .1 .imitation has caused con- | el.lerat.li research on the subject.” re- j marked the cheerful idiot to his pastor the oth< r icy "1 sum se,“ he continued, ■ that you hav* m ide a study cf the mon eys of the Bible < >. replied the minister blandly. “I ..m familiar, to be sure, with the blb lican coins.” I infer th .t paper money was used at tv time of the tiood.” continued the Idiot, 7-arring ftr a chance to make a home thrust • What h:i3 led you to this conclusion?” ask* 1 the pastor. Well, w< read of where the dove hrouuht th* rreen back to Noah."—Wash ington Tint. a. London and Paris Filled With breen Taior-Made Gowns With White Rovers— Fashionable Tweeds in Dahlia—Blue Velvet Is Combined with Almost Every Color from Green to Ivory Black. Skirts are Much Mod’fled in Their Breaeth3—Capes are Losing Their Popularity and Short Velvet Jack ets Taking Their Place. (Copyright. lSlnJ, by Ryman Interview Syn dicate.) Paris. September 24— I.ondon tailors ■laim that they set the fashions for the tailor gowns of Paris, which Is equivalent to saying that they establish the style of tho tailor gown for the world. So 1 hle«l' me yesterday to the smartest English ta'lor in ull Parts and had a talk ^ of an hour on the tailor gown of this sea son. and I was shown a great many pat terns and no end of now samples. Tweeds will be much worn this winter, especially the newer ones that show, on close inspection, tiny threads in live or six colors. At a casual glance, though, one only gets the effect of one soft pre vailing tone. An attractive piece of dahlia tweed was flecked with threads of gold, and the effect was exquisite when made up. It gives one a chance to choose a trimming in one's favorite color by select ing a gown of this new multi-colored tweed. for most all of the fashionable shades tire found in the weave of the cloth. COMBINED WITH GREEN. Green promises to be the favorite color of this reason’s tailor gowns, and the wo men fef London, with their fresh, bright comph xdons, were so delighted over Dame Fashion's decree that they stralgtway. or ' and all. took unto themselves a green frock, trimmed in white revers almost without exception. Then the inferior houses began to turn out those green gowns in hundreds, until London looked as though it wore being overrun by a great female orphan asylum in green uniforms. Now the swell London tailors are trying to abstain from green, and they suggo. t dahlia., brown or gray, but never green, unless it is combined with blue in some strlkin rly original way. Nevertheless they ere obliged to cater to the popular taste for the green and white. One of the very prettiest pattern gowns shown mo was of a soft shade of green tweed, trimmed in dark blue velvet. The skirt was rather modest in dimensions, | ; rd. though i1. was gored at the front and rid-- the bark was straight and warrant ed not to sag. and the fullness at the waist line was convened into three small box pleats. On 1 v tbo front gore of the skirt boasted a haircloth facing, rfnd the rest of the skirt was faced with a material so soft that there was net the sllghest flare noticeable in tin rt. BLUE COMBINATIONS. TJte jacket of this costume had a long blue velvet yoke, bordered with dark i Tf-cn j ss* mcnterle. with discs of bright green irril scent trimming introduced at Intervals. A girdle of blue velvet belted in the fuln* -s of the casque coat, and dls «!>p*ared under th ■ broad, full box pleat >:t the front or the jacket. The tall Mod Ids collar was a continuation or the dark blue \ Vet yoke. A hat that was to be warn with this oot-trme was a small gretn tlut. trlmm d with choux of pale blue and blue t :/• ta ribbon rid a bird of paradise feather. Another pretty gown was built of army blue broadcloth. The skirt was an ordin ary, rather full godet, trimmed with two rows of narrow blue braid. The jacket was short, reaching barely to the waist line, and fastened across a plaid vest with striking military* frogs of darker blue' h-ai . Four short basques of the plaid . ilk id etl from under the jacket. .i •--r •n*vxoT.M J I “OF BLACK VELVET, WITH A LINING OF PALE GREEN SILK. Capes will not be worn as much as they were last winter, and with the dressier toilets short velvet jackets will be very popular. One of the newest jacket* shown is built of black velvet, with a lin - brocaded silk. The yokt is oi w lti -.tiiti with n covering of heavy cream lace, and from the yoke the v lvet falls In si; . box pleats which are not c- nfi:u '. * tu> waist. A tan broadcloth c pc that w '• un usual had e lining of pnle Freer, t .r« :a. The edee of the ci.pe and t; : "■ were bordered with a narrow braid In bright hunter’s-green. and hunt'i ’ n velvet faced the high M*PU'I cnl’ar. A stunning gown made of tin popular dahlia tweed had a full plain godet skirt that hung marvellously well. The Jacket had short full basques that showed c<>n splcuously a lining of pale gold taffeta. Revers of white satin turned back over broader revers of the tweed at the front of the Jacket. A narrow stiver pass< men terle trimmed the Jacket quite olabor tc ly. and narrow threads ot silver oulllned the box plait on the front of the white satin vest. The chic little toque, fashioned c xprcssly for this gown, was made of frog-green braided felt. Dahlia velvet was draped around the low felt crown, and at one side there were tiny dahlia and green tips, with tall frog-green aigrettes in their mid- .. A separate silk blouse, fashioned for this suit, was made of dahlia silk, stioi with gold. It was gathered full at the shoul der seams, and the full'. droppt 1 quite over the belt, back and lront. A long sash of soft surah silk, in dahlia and gold plaids, went twice around the waist and knotted at the side with long ’ringed that came nearly to the bottom of the skirt. STT.K SASHES. These soft sashes will he worn so ir.uc n with the tailor suits of this season; espe cially where where the Jacket is a short bolero the sash Is wonderfully effective. Tall girdles of satin rlhlion are ordered with many of the tailor gowns, and in ov erv case pome sort of silk biousc accompi* ries the suit, that oftentimes is weighted down with elaborate trimming. One of the pretty tailor gowns is made cf rather a dark shade of gray ladies' ; dotht. The skirt Is a full flaring godet. with a trimming of narrow black braid j down each seam of the front gore.. The . rather short jacket is trimmed elaborately in the black braid and opens over a stitf linen chemisette that is almost concealed by a large black satin tie. The hat is a Hat of black foTt. with huge black satin bows at the back and a wreath of pale yellow velvet roses around the > crown. A WIDOWS COSTUME. A stunning young widow, who is wearing half mourning, creates quite a buzz of ad miration whenever she appears in he r ivw tailor gown. It is of black cheviot, with a. broad, flaring godet skirt. At the seams of the front gore narrow plaited pannels are Inserted that are strapped across with tabs of the black ehcvlott. bordered with a narrow white braid. The sack coat is short and opens at the under arm seam. . At the front it is slashed to show a lining of white taffeta, and tabs of the tweed keep the sashes from flaring. A crush girdle of striped white and black satin ribbon shows con spicuously below the short jacket. Around her neck she always wears a tour de cou of broad black satin sash r.. bon. with a tiny edge of white satin. It is plaited very full and it is quite high enough to entirely eclipse her ears. Her hat is a small black felt, almost a sailor In shape, that Is set on a bandeau at the back to make It tip quite over the face. The crown is trimmed around with ehoux of white and black satin ribbon, and tail ends and quills stand up right at the back. NINA GOODWIN. THEIR POPULARITY EXPLAINED. “P thought he admired large women,” he said. “That’s what he always said,” she an swered. “And yet he marled a little bit of a thing.” he persisted. “Does that surprise you?” she in quired. 'Certainly, when he admired-” “O, that has nothing to do with it,” she explained, showing some contempt for his ignorance. "Lots of men admire large women, but they don't pick ou* that kind to boss around.”—Chicago Post. MERELY AN INSINUATION. “I've a great story to tell you. boys.” said a drummer to a group In the corri dor of the Iroquois last nrght. "I don't think any of you ever heard me tell it be fore.” "Is It a really good story?” asked one of the party, doubttngly. "It certainly Is.” “Then you never told It before.”—Buf falo Times. Rockefeller Ft&al’v Paid $50,000 Rr a chanty Lcoatod in His Hudson River Park. Cwm r Crazy with Joy—An O d Wc dman Who Ci03sed the Aus tin Corbin Place to Reach His Woodland Abode—Law Gives a Man Gangplank to Get Home. Georgo Vanderbilt Covets a Shod That Stands as a Spying Place Upon a Lovely Valley—Spot in Le jox That Sloane and Stokes Can’t Buy. There la a tale of young Eustls, who. h iving all things, wanted one thing more! There can be told a tale of boundless ness, bounded only by one thing, a bit of thwarted ambition. A nothing, yet a something! It has cost nothing as yet, yet would cost untold wealth. It is a tale of'the great country resi dences. thr- immense baronial estates that are owned here as in England. Hut here they hove been gradually acquired. And in this acquirement, this buying up of property to make a grand country home, happened the curious experiences ’hat make baronial h'story. When John D. Rockefeller bought those i miles around Tarrytown, placing his titles j over the country that runs along the most i picturesque part of the Hudson, ho planned placing a fence around it all and Inclosing all in one beautiful park. So large did ho plan it that, out driving, ho could drive ten miles straight ahead with out going off his own estates. A MISER rf GREED. In getting so vast a piece of property to gether many a stream had to be crossed, many mountains climbed and nvioh sur veying dene. Acres upon acres were ad ded as Mr. Rockefeller found n- w outlying pieces of property that pleased him. At length, driving over his lands, he found himself In possession of so many miles of property that ho needed no more. "Here I shall place my house.” he said. "And the park shall extend for miles around us, further than wo enn sec or walk or drive. It shall be like a Baronial estate into whose depths the ownerj**netrnte. but offering no access to the stranger.' When the surveyors set out to place the boundaries of the big fence they w. ro amazed to find a small piece of property that was not in the plans. It consisted of a|sma!! strip of land running back about forty rods Into Mr. Rockefeller’s domains. T'por. the little plfft stood a simple frame house, unrrtanted. while around the door strayed a few lonesome chickens. The surveyors reported this to Mr. Rock efeller. ’’Purchase the piece of prop- I erty," ordered he. When tho Rockefeller approached the small house they found an old man by tho door feeding his hens. *T don’t think as I want ter sell." said he. reflectively glanc ing over the spreading acres beyond. “Fact is, I like ter have a nice neighbor like that. T'm contented here, doin’ chores for tho neighbors an’ working out winters. Vn T dnan't want ter sell.” “One of those obstinate old fellows.” ejaculated the ng> nt. "Leave him alone. He’ll come around." Hut the man did not come around fast enough. MoanwbHe Mr. Rockefeller wanted to build that f-nee. The little plot stood next the best water chance on the place. A beautiful little river cas cades Into a ravine buck of the plot. Buy at any price." ordered the millionaire. But the agent held out. All summer the man worked out doing chores and when winter came he honw-d up. only going out to do odd Jobs. Spring dawned, and with It curs* the agent The old man by this time was ugly. “You can't have that thar house fur Ism than J^iono." said he. "and cash at that." “I’ll pay It.” said the agent. "I will be here to-morrow with the money and a Vext morning came the agent, the law yer and the money. But when they ap proached the house they saw- somethltiR had gone wrong. The chickens were run ning wildly In all directions, the windows wers broken and the door hung mournful ly upon one hinge. As they stopped to gaze at the strange sight a wildly dishev elled figure came rushing around the house, crying. “Money! Money! Where's the money? Let me eat It! Let me eat it!” It was the poor fellow, gone stark. 1 raving mad with Jpy at the prospect of sudden wealth. Three months afterwards he died In the madhouse. VANDERBILT S HOODOO. Not all such tales have so traffic an end ing. Upon the very border of Biltmore George Vanderbilt’s North Carolina es tate, there dwells a farmer, fat. ruddy and contented, knowing, as he does, that the owner of Biltmore would give a cool million any day to oust him. Biltmore is so planned that Its borders end upon streams, in forests and upon large adjoining estates of gentlemen. Bill Nye’s place touches Biltmore upon one end. These people never annoy the owner of Biltmore. and he does not feel that he has any territorial boundaries. Except for this one farmer! This old man sold his estate to George Vanderbilt, but carefully marked off one section of It for himself. Ho did not sell quite all he owned. There was still a narrow strip left. Upon this he moved his littlo farmhouse and stubbornly refused to budge. Every year Immense sums have bene offered him to sell the little farm house and live elsewhere. But there he lives, placidly smoking his pipe, tilling his two or three acres and enjoying the shoot ing and fishing of his neighbor, whose land dips down Into a valley Just there, mak ing the old man’s farmhouso a veritable spying ground. CORBIN TII1VARTED. Austin Corbin bougnt ms immense w", try estate more craftily than most mill ionaires know how to do. For months be fore he built his house ho had old farmers going around with their pants tucked In boots saying to the farmers around. "Wall. I guess I'd like to buy a strip o’ that land o' yourn!" •Think o’ settlin’ hereabouts?” the farmers would ask. “Wall, ye—es. if you don’t hold your land too high.” And so his crafty agents got hold of many and many a hundred acres at the regular market price. But there was one old farmer in the in terior of the forest land who said nothing but sawed wood. When the make-believe farmers approached him he answered: "I guess I won't sell Jest yit. In the spring this here wood’ll all be gone. Thou I'll sell the place ter yer." "We’vo got him cinched.” said the wise agents. "That wood Is only good for this season's chopping.” Meanwhile they bought up enough land to make a hand some park, and began to turn *tone for a house. But In the spring the old man thought differently about moving. "Guess have tho owners of the proper- • side tried to buy of the old owns it. But she, poor 1 one-sided cow and sells hoi neighbors and holds on. At . .. * wanted $5,000. Now she r> . But she Is old and can’t live her little place will bo bout t her son, who urges her to - Such are a few of the Ml. having great estates, want besides. And such Is the ; !• pldtty that those owner lng for necessities, bear th< • ‘ hardships, sure that a gold r at their feet If they cmi or enough for It. ALBERT ( \ . .. THE NEW MIKAIm From London Truth. “These links always rer New Jerusalem,'’ sai l Cn as, after carefully testing c. of a brasaey in relation > imbedded "Silveriown.” he wooden implement In hij ' ... out the heavies: Iron to ; “And why of the N- * quired Minnie Anson, his foursome. “Because there Is noth' Btketh a lie." answer* gravely. “This is ,:io for ning that I have had to bottom of a cavity.” re tin v- ’It Minnie laughed. “You use your Bibb practical illustration,’’ * "Just so,’’ Mi S3 An n. man preached from a ex which impressed me a ; thinking of our foursoi. and I could not heip from a golf standpoint—I . Paul.” “In what wav?’’ “Why, the evil tha T Hiring, pressing, tov and the good 1 wool i > hands well a vay that I do not. Th *-p* ■ also, contained a v> rj ‘They went astray in r: of the way.’ 1 thoughts at once «■ >• I experience in ifi« m ' 1 I fore." "Really, Mr. Pink’rton | rlgiblc.’’ v '*>*.> CoV^'^ \ Lirt. lo^Dq^-^: y.oOTO^ Ca/^T BUY THit> T ' MlUU,orJ . TO GE.oc6fc Cost Poc*.Cr fc SO OOo_ i-’lVE HOUSES WORTH MORE THAS THEIR WEK I've thought bettor of It,” h«> chuckled. The -round was broken, the stone carted and the* mansion completed. Then came the* stock in;: of so great an estato. "My boy,” Corl In ed to say to his young friends ">Iy boy. do you sec those grouse running around; and ran you hear the guall? My boy, In a few years I’ll have liner shoot ini; than Beresford has got on his place," A startled squawk of the wild fowl broke the Htlllm s. A stamping of game In the woods told that a disturbing element was nt hard. Through the elegantly planner) park came an old man. with a gun on his shoulder and his dogs nt his heels. "Whero are you going?” Remanded Mr. Corbin. "Golm: home." replied the old man la conically. • i'll 6ee about that,” said Corbin. A lawyer was called In and the law was read. But the closest application could find no hindrance to u man reaching his own property. “A man Is entitled to a gangplank to his own habitat.” was the ultimatum. And they could get no further. That man still holds the property. He has an Idea his grandchildren will sell for millions. There Is a well-known story that Te*vi p Morton, with his Jersey pigs ond Ms Alderney cows, would dearly like to pur chase a snug bit of property that lb s next to his. but the owner holds on for peculiar reasons. He wants to be "next the rosV lie Is a politician of locnl repute, end tho privilege of snylng that ho lives next to Morton Is worth twenty votes to him. When so lofty a reason restrains a man It Is a mean politician that would seek to tempt. A LENOX TENANT. At Lenox, upon one of the lovely hill sides leading up to October Mountain, the Harry Whitney country place, there stands a little shanty with a cobble-stone foundation and a single sprawly tree growing alongside. Only one of it end great estates. Many and many a Urns “People l d Iowa tv-. ogetieally. People <1:1 very well ir. comic linn ably i1 Mr. G the pub;i» ‘-1 ; riij ^ ! Inc i ' tnorf." *1 ■ .Garrulity, a Induced ' I-aghtcr a: hi personae: >n. would, tak n ' filled a r ■ l-aiz> 1 r- r stalled oxen <aa Pink* r on :i n.ite the sleek and pr *P'‘ who sat in 'be half guir.e ful of their dlpni-y. ' 1 jwiietccatB shook an 1 were «I,thu. their entertainment :u podophylln. Cutllsh P : I dec'.ared this to 1,0 rm ' farrlal gtioce-w. “Wh 1 piece,’* he used to <:i> Judge w ••’her I' i always fix my < tine In the house. If lsfled: if he chucks 1 <*' he laughs *iat digf - dunno where I an thing I do know, an 1 : In for a safe rnn of Cutllsh Pinker on ’ Is to say, he w i! ' forty. He was a cul’:v passions. Which we- ■ sailing Ms su^ 'P' Vfirt. And If the *f this golf foursome • making one on ' teen arranged facilitate a .dir a’ n affection for the Anson’s sister. Dora Tredgold, a fellow ton's company, forme They qiso wcrefl.rtiu > i*