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The progress-advertiser. (Lexington, Miss.) 1902-1903, December 31, 1903, Image 3

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn87065338/1903-12-31/ed-1/seq-3/

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the new year.
Where I'm wattle', waitin'.
Jessamines are ahlte;
I>\is arn «irlppln\ drippln'.
Through the perfumed night;
>n' f'm way off yonder
Come* the "wheei-te-whee!"
Of the happy fleldlark.
Bubblin' down to me.
An' the sun's a-shlnlp'
In each drop o' dew,
Where I'm waitin', waitin',
Waitin', here fer you;
Know you're cornin', cornin'.
An' I wait fer you
'Mongst midwinter roses
Drippln' wet with dew;
Know that you will bring me
Pleasure, but I know
Kv'ry bubblin' cup o' Joy
Has its dregs o' woe.
But I'm waiting fo: you
Where the dewdrops blink,
Anxiotis for your cornin',
Dyln* for a drink;
Waitin' for the future
You a-re bound to bring;
Waitin' 'mongst the dewdropa
Where the field larks sing;
Waitin' for the goblet,
Bitter-sweet an' all,
On my knees I'm waitin',
Where the fleldlarks call.
—J. M Lewis. In Houston Poet
The Message
of the Bells V
A New Veer Story
By ELIZABETH PRICE
Sun clouds scudded gustily across the
sky, hiding the peaceful face of the
moon, whose radiance touched the edges
of her somber veil with a fringe of sil
ver. The g^eat gray tower lifted its
head far aloft In the midnight stillness,
and the wind moaned around Its rough
hewn corners a requiem for the dying
year. Within the tower sat the old bell
ringer, waiting for the stroke of 12 from
the clock, and, as he waited, his thoughts
drifted back to the years long burled In
the dimness of the past—the years when
his floating white hair had been crisp and
black, when Us long, slender fingers were
strong and Supple and struck from the
midnight chimes music of entrancing
beauty.
Ah! life had been worth the living
In those far-off happy days. People had
predicted a wonderful future for him, and
in spite of the poverty that retarded his
progress, and a great ambition possessed
him. Obstacles were pushed aside, diffi
culties overcome, as he worked by day
and studied by night, and the bells In
the tower spoke marvelous things to the
many who listened, and who, listening,
praised. Their praise was sweet, but
Elspeth's was sweeter, and, when one
New Year's eve, he told her of his love
and won her promise to be his own, his
heart beat with a rapture that thrilled
through the chimes that night till listen
ers wondered and children came back
from dreamland to hear.
Oh, happy memory! Oh, long ago!
It was on another night like this that
Ruprecht was born; and the joy which
beamed from the pale young mother's
face was reflected in his own, as he left
1 !
k.;
IV
"THE CLOCK ON THE MANTEL
WARNED FOR TWELVE, AND THE
MUSICIAN TURNED TO THE PIANO
AND PLAYED AGAIN SIMPLY AND
LOVINGLY PLEYEL'S HYMN."
her baby on her bosom and rushed to
the bell-tower to make his chimes a
paen of praise to the Father who had
filled his life with blessing. How they
loved him—that baby—their only one—
their all! How he and Elspeth had
watched each new development—how
proudly guided the first tottering step;
how carefully repeated the first lisping
word! How joyfully'they trained and
taught him, while the father, too busy
In his struggle for their maintenance to
realize his great ambition, transferred It
uncomplainingly from his own future to
that of his son! Nor had their hopes
been vain. The boy studied—improving
every opportunity with untiring zeal, un
til at last the great organ in the cathe
dral below thundered Its glorious music
responsive to the touch of the boyish
fingers. People thronged to hear. Rup
recht's services were demanded else
where—brilliant prospects opened before
him. and the Inevitable separation drew
near.
New Year's Eve! How many anniver
saries this shadowy hour held! The boy
bade them good-by while Elspeth clung
to him and sobbed, and her husband
rushed away to tell the chimes his agony
he had poured Into them his joy. As
he sat waiting even as now, a step came
up the stair, and some one entered the
belfry chamber, and the voice he loved
said tenderly: "Mein Vater, let me play
the chimes to-night. I will leave with
them a message to comfort you when you
arc sad—a message for you and the moth
er, too.
"When I hear It In the far-off land It
will be my mother's voice that sings to
me, and when you play It, mein Vater, it
will say to you, 'Ruprecht loves me.'
Then you will pray 'God watch over my
boy and keep him safe for me,' and the
All-Father will hear."
When Ruprecht struck the massive
keys It was the simple old Pleyel's hymn
he played, hut he lent his beautiful voice
to the clangor of the bells and sang his
mother's favorite words:
"Children of the Heavenly King
As >o Journey sweetly sing;
Sing your Saviour's worthy praise
Gloriout; in His works and ways."
A moment later he was gone. The
as
years had been many and long since then,
but no tidings ever came, and Elspeth's
hair grew white before the look of ex
pectancy in her dear eyes changed to the
clamness of resignation. He was dead,
of course. They knew now that It must
be so, though they had not given up
hope till they had left the old home and
followed their wanderer to the new coun
try. They had heard of the wrecked ship,
to be sure, but hope dies hard. Perhaps
if they had been patient—had stayed on
amid the scenes of his childhood—he
might have come back to them; but how
could they be patient when the world
was so wide, and half of It lay between
them and the land that had called their
child. They were only waiting now—he
and Elspeth—for the summons which
should call them to the happy reunion In
a home where there would be no Bad
good-bys, where muslc.knows no minor,
and hearts forget how to ache.
The first stroke of midnight sounded
and an Instant later the bells pealed
forth, while the old man sang with trem
bling lips and voice that no one heard but
s he had sung every New Year
God
since that one:
"Children of the Heavenly Kin*
A* ye Journey sweetly sing.
Sin* your Saviour's worthy prslss.
Glorious In His works and ways."
Then, as the last reluctant echo died
away, he stumbled down the narrow
stairs toward home and Elspeth.
Not far from the belltower stood a
mansion, where a great throng had as
sembled to watch the old year out and
the new year In. Silken draperies rustled,
Jewels gleamed, music rippled on the per
fumed air, and happy voices rang sweet
and high. But every sound was silenced,
and bright eyes grew dim In the flood of
melody w-hleh suddenly poured about the
gay throng. They crowded toward tKe
music room, trying to catch a glimpse df
the player. Those who were near saw a
slender man, with fair curling hair
brushed back from a brbw as pure as a
woman's. The face was pale and the eyes
sad, but about thesensitlve mouth played
an expression of rare sweetness and
beauty. Quietly he sat before the grand
piano, playing without the slightest ef
fort such masterful music as had hushed
the listeners to awe-struck silence.
"Who is he?" was the question passed
from one to another when at last ths
cessation of the music broke the spell.
"He Is a friend of father's," thttf
hostess told them. "Father met Urn
abroad some years ago, and by helping
him in a search for some missing friends,
won his heart. The search w|is not suc
cessful, but that did not seem to lessen
Prof. Von Bulow's gratitude, and they
have corresponded in a desultory way
ever since. Father Invited him here for
the holidays this year, but he declined the
Invitation, then this evening suddenly
and unexpectedly appeared. These great
musicians are always eccentric, you
know. I heard him tell father that this
is an anniversary he doesn't like to spend
alone. Some love story probably. No,
he Isn't married. He spends his entire
time with his wonderful music. That is
really all I know about him." With that
the interested guests were forced to be
content, for the player had vanished from
among them as suddenly as he appeared,
and soon the gayety resumed Us sway.
At 11 o'clock the hostess seated her
guests in a circle, saying: "Now we will
turn down the lights and tell ghost stories
till midnight. Everybody must contrib
ute something. The more gruesome and
harrowing the better," she added laugh
ingly. The young people fell in with the
spirit of fun, and ghosts walked, hob
goblins shrieked and ghouls moaned, till
the more timid begged for mercy.
It was almost 12 o'clock when a new
voice suddenly broke Into a momentary
Everyone looked up to see the
pause.
musician standing In the door.
"My friends," he said, "my story Is not
of the spirits of the unseen world—it is
of a lad in the far-away Fatherland, who
once, on a night like this, left home and
friends and went out into the wide world,
with music as the priestees who presided
at the altar, where burned the fires of
his ambition. So brightly did this fire
burn that Its glow hid the quieter emo
tions which lingered in the shadow, and
father and mother and home were left be
hind. The youth had not dreamed of the
pain of broken ties—but he afterward
learned It all.
"Shipwrecked, a weary sickness and
deliverance, miscarried letter returned to
Its writer long afterward—all these came
between the lad and his loved ones, and
when at last, overcome by the deadly
'heimweh,' he turned toward home, he
found It empty—the loved ones gone,
while the chimes In the tower which the
father had played ever since the lad had
lived, respond) d sadly to the touch of
strange, unfriendly hands.
"With breaking heart the lad turned
back to the country of his adoption, hop
ing. against hope, to find the dear ones,
who had followed him there during his
long silence. The years have passed and
the lad is a man, but the father and the
mother he has not found, nor does he ex
pect to greet them again until the New
Year of Heaven dawns for him, as ho
believes it has already dawned for them.
So, when the midnight comes I play each
New Year's Eve as I—as the lad played
on that last night long ago—my message
to my dear ones."
The clock on the mantel warned for
12, and the musician turned to the piano
and played again simply and lovingly
Pleyel's hymn, singing as In the longago
the beautiful words his mother loved.
As the last note died away In the quiet
room the tower clock began to strike, but
drowned by the music of the chimen.
was
A thrill ran through the hushed circle an
they recognized the strain they had Just
heard, but the musician arose with a
mighty cry: "Mein Vater!" and ran out
into the night, guided by the music of the
bells.
When the old bell ringer shut the door
he could not see, for the tears that
blinded him, the hurrying figure on the
pavement. A moment later he was gath
ered close to the heart that had yearned
tor him through all the space of silence
and loneliness, and together. In the open
ing of the glad New Year, they went out
from the shadow of the bell tower, home
to Elspeth, whose mother heart cams
near to bursting, with the Joy of a son's
home coming. — Minneapolis House
keeper.
Unalloyed Bliss.
"Aren't you going to wear that neck
tie I gave you on Christmas?" inquired
Mr. Meekton's wife.
"Of course, I am, Henrietta. I was
saving it up. I'm going to wear that red
necktie and my nilo green Bmoklng
jacket and my purple and yellow rocks,
and smoke one of those birthday clgari
you gave me, all at once."—Washington
Star.
I
|
A Happy
NewYear's Day
■y
BERTHA E. COODIER
"Now, Elsie Lawrence," the girl se
verely addressed the woful reflection in
the great glass door of the station, "I
hope you're not going to cry. Remem
ber, you're much too old for such child
ishness. It does seem bad that father
must go home, and on New Year's
day of all days, but you must be brave,
as be said, and have just as happy a
New Year's day as you can."
It did seem hard to be left all alone.
They had come to this wonderful city,
Elsie Lawrence and her father, and ar
rangements had been made for placing
the girl in a seminary.
Elsie
walked
When
Lawrence
through the beautiful marble-tiled sta
tion and stood looking out at the white
world that lay before her It seemed
that the tears must come, for she was,
oh, so lonely.
Outside It was Just as crisp and as
clear and as sunshiny as a New Year's
day should be. The snow sparkled with
a million diamond lights, and sifted
onto the roofs and the trees a tender
white covering that made the city seem
a fairy-land. Elsie dreaded to face that
biting cold. It was so pleasant and
warm inside. But, surely, one could not
spend New Year's day In the waiting
room of the station. As she went down
the broad avenue toward Miss Morgan's
seminary Elsie quite forgot the cold
and the loneliness In the Interest of
watching the people who were hurry
ing this way and that. It made her a
little sad. too, when she thought that
everyone in all the great city was hav
ing a happy time except herself. Every
one, it seemed, had some place to go;
sleighloads of young people were pass
ing, and often they cried out "Happy
New Year!" to someone on the street.
Elsie thought of the girls at home, in
Fairhaven, and she wondered what they
would say if they could see her, standing
on the corner of two broad streets,
wishing so earnestly that she knew
someone on whom she might make a
New Year's call. With a clatter and a
rush and much sliding of wheels ovev
the shining track, a great yellow car
1 r
j
h
I
IL
"ELSIE STAYED JUST LONG ENOUGH
TO SEE THEM TUCKED AWAY IN
LITTLE BEDS."
stopped before her, and was now un
loading Its human freight. Over its
windows it bore the sign, "California
Street!"
California street! Elsie's eyes bright
Impulsively she ran forward
ened.
and was soon whirling along in the car.
She was no longer sad; no longer lonely,
for she was going to make a New Year's
call on the Washingtons—George, Mar
tha, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Jackson,
Arathusa and Amaryllis,
been to see them once before. On the
day of her arrival Miss Morgan had ta
ken her to the miserable little shanty,
and now she was going to see If she
might not bring a little sunshine to the
six little orphans, whose mother had
died but the month before.
She picked her way carefully among
the ash heaps and tomato cans that lit
tered Moxey's alley till she stood on the
little doorstep and pushed open the
rickety door. And what a sight met her
eyes! The six little Washingtons sat
huddled about a stove In which a few
coals gleamed faintly. Martha the eld
est, a girl about Elsie's age, crouched
on a stool, and In her arms she held
Baby Amaryllis, so swathed in a ragged
quilt that she looked like a little pap
poose. Abraham Lincoln crept close to
Martha's knee, and was whimpering
with the cold. Andrew Jackson and his
twin, Arathusa, were huddled together,
while George Washington, the man of
the family now, was searching the dim
corners of the bare room, hoping against
hope that some bit of coal might be
there.
Martha explained in a dull, hopeless
sort of way, all that Elsie had guessed
She had
at a glance.
"Mammy, she lef' us all alone, an'
thar ain't nuthin' to eat, an' no money
to buy none. I couldn't go to work
scrubbln' count o' the awful cold I cotch,
an' George Washington, he ain't no
bigger'n a minute, an' folks won't give
him no sidewalks ter shuvel. I 'clar' ter
goodness, Missy, I don' know what
goln' to come o' we all, 'cause mammy
allwus said it wus better fer to starve
ner to beg."
"Well, you needn't beg, Martha, and
you're not going to starve on New Year's
day. You Just bundle those children
up, for I'm going to take you all to some
place where it is bright and beautiful,
and oh, as warm as summer-time!"
In contrast with her present sur
roundings the great, fine depot seemed
all this. Martha obeyed wonderingly,
and it was a strange little procession
that filed out of the darkness of Moxey's
alley and a very breathless company
that clambered Into Jerry Flynn's hack
which Elsie had hailed in the grandest
manner possible. Jerry Flynn trembled
for the moment at the thought of his
bright broadcloth linings, yet there was
no need. The little Washingtons were
as clean as soap and water would make
them. Their little black faces had been
icruhbed till they fairly shone, and
now that hunger and cold were forgot
ten in the Joy of riding with this beau-1
tiful lady who had said that she would
take them to some place where It was
warm like sumraer-tlBe, their bltek eyee
were shining, too. «•
"To the Unlftn depot." Elsie had told
Jerry Flynn, and at the station they
shortly alighted. "How much?" asked
the girl, holding In her hand the crisp
new two-dollar bill he r J.ttvr had
given her that morning.
"Well, ma'am, my rates Is a quarter
apiece," began the smiling Jerry.
"A quarter apiece!" Elsie made a
rapid mental count. "Oh, 1 wtfn't have
any money left to buy them something
to eat!"
"But seeing it's New Year's," went on
the hacliman. "give me half a dollar,
ma'am, an' we'll call It square," and
Jerry Flynn was rewarded by the smile
in Elsie's eyes.
It was as warm as summer-time, and
oh, so beautiful. At first the little
guests could only sit in a solemn little
row. staring wide-eyed at the marble
pillars and glittering chandeliers. They
made the quaintest picture, and every
one stared and then smiled; and after
awhile the Waaklhgtons began to smile,
too. and to feel less strange and to nudge
one another and whisper together In the
jolllest way. Elsie, meanwhile, was
holding earnest conversation with the
proprietor of the lunch counter.
"But you see," she said, "I have only
a dollar and a half, and I must keep
something to get back with. Six cups
of cofTee aJ ten cents would be 60 cents,
and six pieces of pie at ten cents—oh,
how can I ever buy enough for those
poor children!"
"Beg pardon, ma'am, but l didn't
know you was buyin' for that orphan
asylum over there. Possibly 1 could
find enough for you for a dollar. How's
that? I'll take the contract of fillin'
them up for a dollar."
And Elsie was glad to accept this
really generous offer. They had pie and
coffee and sandwiches and pork and
beans. Some of the articles, of course,
were not as salable as they might have
been a few days before, but the Wash
ingtons did not mind this in the least,
but just ate and ate, pausing every now
and then to smile tenderly at Elsie.
When at last no one would have an
other piece of pie or another orange,
the children rolled up on the soft cush
ions and went to sleep for all the world
like cozy little kittens. Elsie took the
queer bundle from Martha's tired arms
and fixed her own coat against the bench
that the girl might rest better. Then
she sat for a long time looking about
her at her charges, and thinking what a
funny way it was to spend New Year's
day. The station policeman, who had
had his eye on them for a long time,
came forward now. "Were you waitin'
for a train, ma'am?" he asked, touching
his cap.
"No—oh, no, thank you," said Elsie,
looking sweetly up at him.
His words put an anxious thought
Into the girl's mind. What were they
waiting for, after all? Where could
they go now? She listened to the ris
ing wind and saw the sleet driven
against the window. Oh, how could they
face the storm—poor Martha Washing
ton and these little ones? What could
they do but wait? And for whom—un
less it be the Father of the fatherless?
It was a comfortable thought, and when,
after another space of anxious watch
ing, the policeman again came forward
and said kindly, "Won't you tell me who
you're waiting for?" Elsie smiled
through the tears that would come, and
answered solemnly, "Mfs're watlng for
the Father of the fatherless."
He was a very kind-hearted police
man, and perhaps was remembering'a
little blue-eyed girl of his own as he
listened to the simple story, for he
drew one rough hand across his eyes and
said: "Well, little girl, I guess you
don't need to worry about them kids no
longer, for I'll just call up the patrol and
take them over to the police station in
,o time, and in the morning we'll see if
Ve can't get them into the colored
jrphan's home. I guess the Father of
the fatherless was lookin' out for them
all the time, so you needn't worry no
more."
Elsie stayed just long enough to see
them tucked away In little white beds
by the kind-hearted matron, then the
policeman took her hack to the school.
Miss Morgan was looking anxiously
from one of the windows as the strange
pair came up the long stairs.
"Why, Elsie Lawrence," she cried,
"what on earth is the matter? Where
have you been?"
When she heard the story, Miss Mor
gan sat silent for a long time, and there
was a suspicion of tears in her voice as
she said: "Well, little girl, I think you
have had a very happy New Year, in
deed."—Detroit Free Press.
RESOLUTIONS.
If We Keep All These W e May Hops
for the Coining of the
iMillenninui.
Fellow-Citizens: Upon this, the birth
of a new year, let us resolve:
Never again to ask our wife what she
did "with all that five dollars" we gave
her three months before;
To own up, without equivocation, that
we were asleep In church;
Not to attempt to eat the things that
we know do not agree with us;
To stop reading a pdper that we do not
like, instead of forever grumbling over
Good-by, old year, good-by—goei by)
For th;,p 11 tear ani ' heartfelt
themm.
-Detroit Fit t Free*.
It;
Not to complain about our neighbor'i
chickens, when our own dog runs loose;
To respect our wife's opinion when it
Is contrary to ours;
To refrain from demanding. "What In
the matter with the dinner?" when, if
we looked at the clock, we would see that
it is not yet time for it;
Not to deride ping-pong—and then
adopt it;
Not to tell the president what he ought
to do;
To admit that other persons' motives
are as good as ours;
Then to die right away quick, ere ouf
halo becomes tarnished.—Edwin L Sa,
bln, In Puck.
Idles for the Old Year.
Little Mabel had been taken by her
parents to a New Year's watch party,
and as the clock struck 12, some one
shouted, "The old year Is dead; hurrah
for the new!"
"Mamma," said sleepy Mabel, "wtU
we have to stay for the funeral?"—
Cleveland Leader.
Hall nml Farewell.
CT
cA New Year
Conquest
•By
CHARLES MOREAU HARCER
A Story of the Gre.it Southwest
G ~ HEAT clouds of yellow dust, a
dazzling blue iky, sweeping
winds, long reaches of level
lands—the midwinter southwest, and
on the siding the palatial train of tha
cattle king who was now off among
the ranches looking after sleek and
well-bred herds.
The cattle king's daughter, whose
prospective wealth entitled her to the
rank of princess, sat under the striped
vsnlng on the rear platform of the
train, gazing wearily at the monot
onous landscape.
"How long are we to stay here?"
she demanded of the porter who was
Industriously trying to keep the leath
er-covered chairs clean. He did not
answer—he did not know. She went
back to the parlor of the other private
car and accosted the quiet woman who
sat by the window sewing. "Auntie,
how long Is this to lust?"
"Until your father gets back or
there are orders.''
"I'm tired of It—I'm going out of
doors."
She seized a Jacket and cap, slipped
down the side steps and disappeared
behind the squalid depot. A dilapi
dated livery stable stood in the sun
shine. "I warn a riding horse—quick!"
The man fairly trembled in his anx
iety to serve the city girl, and in a
moment she was cantering over the
sand and sage brush, headed straight
for the green hills In the distance.
Away and away she sped, delighting
In the free rush of the wind, the swish
of her pony's hoofs through the grass
and the exhilaration of the open lands.
The horse was willing; she was in
love with the exercise; mile after mile
they went, unconscious of the distance.
At last she turned the horse's head
—where was the station? Nothing but
a rolling plain, not shining with sun
light, but dampened by shadow. With,
a little cry of terror she sent her
mount racing ahead and strained her
eyes for the engine smoke on the
horizon.
"Ah, there It is—but so far away!"
She turned again and hurried at. die
horse's best speed. She mounted a
knoll and saw something that thrilled
her very being—the train was in mo
tion, skurrying away to the south, al
ready it seemed to her miles on its
way.
She surmised what had happened—
her father had reached a station far
ther down the line and wired for the
train to join him, and they had not
discovered her absence before start
ing.
As she looked she saw off to the left
another rider—a wide-hatted ranch
man—toward him she rode. As she
drew nearer her cheeks grew red and
her eyes brightened. Once she stopped
and turned as if to leave him. Then
he came close to her.
"Oh, Mr. Mason, what shall I do?"
Frank Mason, the handsome ranch
superintendent, scarcely recognized
in
&
w
1
m
tJL
i
A
Y
v'
I"'
w
%
7 /
K
"1 WANT A RIDING HORSc. '
her, bowing so slightly that it seemed
to be merely the motion of his horse.
"What is the matter, madam?"
"Don't be mean"—the girl's eyes
were beseeching.
"Hut you told me never to speak to
you again—only this morning."
"Yes, I know, but you see how it Is
—the train has gone—It is almost
evening and here 1 am."
"It does look serious, doesn't it?
Where do they think you are?"
"They don't think. Aunty's prob
ably gone to sleep and won't wake up
until midnight—the others think I'm
in my room, iu papa's car."
"It Is serious—and nobody's at the
ranch to take care of you. I suppose
they will come back to-morrow any
how."
"To-morrow!" The girl fairly
screeched the word. "We must get
them now—to-night, don't you under
stand—now!"
"But it Is 60 miles to the next tele
graph station—how can the engineer
get orders?"
He looked toward the train, which
was disappearing lq a cut between
some creek bluffs a mile or two below
the station.
"You see, It's New Year's day and
everybody but the stable boys and sta
tion agent has gone to the county seat
to a celebration. There's a dance to
night, so they won t be home—yes. It is
serious."
Their horses were moving slowly
toward the station, yet a long distance
away. They were talking earnestly
and did not ^otice the curious move
ments of a herd of cattle that had
strayed from the grasslands toward
the station and now, hundreds and
hundreds of them, were pushing close
to the two figures. The girl's bright
jacket and the flashing red of the cap
that topped her brown curls may have
caused their exceeding Interest. When
a huge fellow trotted in front of her
weary horse, the girl stared about her
in alarm.
"Oh, Frank—Mr. Mason—look!"
The young ranchman seemed much
excited. ''Hurry!" he exclaimed, and
urged hU horse Into a run. She can
tered by his side, alarmed by the
strange .apparition of the herd, which
it seemed had risen out of the sod.
The ranchman saw something els«
that the girl did not
earth mounds thrown np in the level
of the plain, the work of prairie dogs
or some other burrowers of the plains.
Before he could caution the girl, her
horse stumbled, fell, staggered, went
tumbling in a heap with a broken leg.
Now it was serious,
more curious than ever, scampered
faster toward the object of their in
terest; the fallen horse plunged and
snorted; the skirts of its rider held
Iter prisoner.
In an instant Mason was by her aids,
tugging at the fair burden. When shs
was free he found her helpless from
a strained ankle, and with tenderness
he lifted her in his arms and to his
own saddle. Then jumping beside her
he turned the nervous animal, drew
his revolver and shot unerringly the
struggling beast on the ground—then
away toward the station resting on
the broad and dusty plain.
Arrived there, he lifted her gently to
one of the benches which stood in the
tiny waiting-room; he transformed it
into s settee with blankets from the
livery stable; be beard with pleasure
her words of satisfaction.
"That pin you wear—where did you
cluster of
The cattle,
r,
le r
r
I
W
"I'M SORRY 1 WAS SO RUDE."
get it?" she asked, Irrelevantly. "It
looks like Harvard."
"It is Harvard—I graduated there."
"And you are herding cattle?"
"I am superintending a ranch—my
father owns it—10,000 head."
"And you live?"
"In Chicago—my special train la
at St. Louis now with my sister and
mother aboard, bound here."
So this was the "cowboy" she had
patronized and made fun of as he came
to the train day after day to see her
father. She had been amused by his
assurance and had quarreled with him
that very morning. Now she was at
his mercy—and she found it rather
pleasant.
"This is a strange beginning for the
New Year," she broke out. "I wonder
when the train will be back."
"I think it is a good beginning—I'm
sure X don't know about that train—
there is no connection with it yet."
"I'm sorry I was so rude this morn
ing. Fr—Mr. Mason."
"Don't worry, Anna—Miss Seamans.''
He smiled, cautiously, at her.
"It is fine of you to care for me and
protect me this way," she went on,
"and I don't know how to thank you.''
"Don't try. This is not the first
time 1 have seen you—I danced with
you two years ago at your cousin's
ball."
"I do not remember, but you lave
been very good now. 1 shall not for
get it"
"I know—but don't you think it
would be a fine thing to have me take
care of you all the time?"
His face was very close to hers and
he looked anxiously out of the win
dow down the long stretch of track
from which her eyes were turned
away.
She gave a pressure of her hand—
but no more. Almost at the door was
a rumble, a high note "T-o-o-t!" and
(he striped awning of the rear car
Into view a few feet away.
came
"Quick— love, will you?" His words
were eager, and as he lifted her In
his arms once more for a journey to
train she whispered: "Yes."
Almost as soon from the opposite
direction came Mr. Seamans and his
He greeted the pair with
foremen.
smiles and laughed at the daughter's
injuries when he found they were not
serious.
"Stay on with us," he invited Ma
•'We'll bring you back before we
son.
leave for Chicago.''
"How Aid the train come back so
soon?" asked Miss Seamans, rising
from her couch. "I thought It was 60
miles to the next station!"
"Wireless telegraphy," suggested
Mason.
''Shucks," said the aunt, contemptu
ously. "The engineer pulled It down
to the creek to fill the boilers. We
weren't gone half an hour."
The girl looked quickly Into the
laughing eyes of the young ranchman.
"I believe you knew It all the time,"
she exclaimed.
"I dm not tell you differently," he
pleaded. "You remember 1 was under
orders.^'
She wds not satisfied. That evening
as they sat out under the striped awn
ing on the rear paltform and watched
the landscape, glistening under the
winter moon, as the train sped south
ward, she continued: "Really, Frank,
didn't you bribe 'lie engineer to run
behind the hill eo it would scare me?"
But he did not answer—nor has he
answered yet, though his wife pro
mnds the question every New Year's
lay.
As Canal.
"What do you think of my New Year's
resolutions?" asked the chauffeur.
"0, I suppose yon-11 have your usual
luck," replied his wife.
"What's that?"
"Break down before you have gone
very far."—Yonkers Statesman.
A Timely Question.
New Year's resolves are wearing,
I do not with to scoff;
But shall I swear off swearing.
Or swear off swearing off?
—Philadelphia PreBs.
Objectionable.
The man who celebrates Christmas
with a public display of vociferous in
ebriety is none the less objectionable
because he is getting ready for a swear
off on New Year's day.—Washington
Star.
r
i
AUTO CANITIES.
t OlImpM Into the Kuimre Whm Ni#
Gasoline Wo* Will Berk
hr Steam.
"I admit that I was pretty sore on ttu
tomobiies when they first came out,"
confessed the red-faced man, with the
horseshoe pin in hi-' scaif, to a New
York Sun reporter. "But since our friend
Goggleton here has explained their in
finite superiority over—woll, 1 den t
how on esrtb I've managed tooe con
tent with horses all these years, 'deed I
don't.
"Why, Just think, you don't have to
feed automobiles, or exerclre 'em. or
shoe 'em, or anything. While, as for
speed, you can make an ordinary pas
locomotive hide its headlltht in
See
senger
shame.
"Of course, the smell of some cl' 'em
Is a bit overpowering at first, but tf you
go fast enough you can generally man
age to keep In front of it. As I said,
1 don't see how I've managed to get
along without one."
The red-facedanan paused, and aaemed
lost in thought.
"Say," he continued, in a few min
utes, "isn't it funny that no one has
ever thought of having auto dogs? Now
that they've solved the horse problem,
why don't they try the dog jfroblem?
"No, no, I don't mean like those little
mechanical toys you see on Fourteenth
street. I mean a sure enough gasoline
dog, with a steam bark attachment.
Something that could be regulated by
a rubber tube leash with a bulb on the
end.
"Just think of It. You could regu
late his speed and direction, and there'd
never be itaiy danger of his getting in
fights. You wouldn't ever have to feed
him. And during the summer, if you
didn't want to take him to the country,
you could store him with some furrier,
who would be only too glad to Insure
him. against fleas and moths.
"Great, isn't it? I expect 'most any
day now to read In my morning paper
that 'Willie Lightweight was seen on
the avenue yesterday with his new rac
ing auto-terrier, the Purple Towser,' or
•Miss Dolly Dimpletoe was noticed in
the park exercising her recently im
ported motor-poodle, the Pink Fidb.'
"Of course, there'll be accidents at
first, just as there were with auto
mobiles. I shouldn't be a bit surprised
to hear 'most any minute that 'While
nine-year-old Lizzie Schlitz was play
ing with her 16-pup power gasoline
grayhound the dog exploded, inflicting
slight wounds about the face. Lizzie's
face was cauterized and the pieces of
dog were gathered up and taken to the
junk pound.'
"There are naturally bound to be some
accidents, but think of the great good
that will eventually—What ? No, thanks,
old man. I'm going down to look at a
horse this afternoon, and wouldn'tdare."
FIRST FATAL DUEL
Ever Fon*ht In America Took Place
Nearly Two Centnrien A*o
on Bouton Common.
The first fatal duel fought in what is
now the United States was upon Boston
Common, between Benjamin Wood
bridge and Henry Phillips, on the even
ing of July 3,1728, says the United Serv
ice Review. These young men had
quarreled over cards at the Royal Ex
change tavern, in Kingstreet (now State
•treet), and under the influence of
drink had agreed to settle their differ
ences with swords in the public grounds
above named. They met at a little after
eight o'clock in the evening, and Wood
bridge was motally wounded and was
found dead the following morning.
Both were gentlemen of good social
position. Phillips was a brother of
George Phillips, who married Marie, the
sister of Peter Faneull, the builder of
Boston's famous hall. Woodbridge had
not completed hts twentieth year. He
was a young merchant who had recently
been admitted to business as a partner
with Jonathan Sewall, one of the most
active merchants of the place. Henry
Phillips, a young graduate of the college
at Cambridge, was about four years
older than Woodbridge, having at the
time of this melancholy affair completed
hts twenty-third year. Woodbridge was
the son of a gentleman of some distinc
tion In Barbados, one of the magistrates
there, who had formerly been settled
In the ministry as pastor in Groton,
Conn.
The place of meeting was on the rising
grounds of the Commons not far from
the Great Elm, near where In the olden
time a powder house stood. Small
swords were used. No one but them
selves participated. Woodbridge fell
mortally wounded and died on the spot
before the next morning. Phillips was
slightly wounded, and at midnight, by
the aid of his brother Gillum and Peter
Faneull, of famous memory, made his
escape to the Sheerness, a British man
of-war then lying In the harbor, and be
fore the sun of the next morning had
fully discovered to Interested friends the
miserable result of the unfortunate
meeting, he was on his way to France,
where he died in less than a year of grief
and a broken heart.
Where Negroes l.eululnte.
Each of the small British colonies in
the West Indies has its own legislature,
and in some of them, notably Barbados,
Grenada and Jamaica, negroes and mu
lattoes are often elected to these bod
ies by their brethren who enjoy the suf
frage. They are usually men of no
education or experience in public life,
and naturally they make egregious
blunders. In Grenada the other day the
government proposed that 8760 per an
num be given to the attorney general for
framing the laws of the colony. There
upon one Indignant member rose ex
citedly to oppose the motion. It was
gross extravagance, he said, for his own
carpenter would put the laws in a splen
did frame for |1.60.
Steal Buildings. .
The demolition of a steel building
three years old in New York city was
watched by the experts of the bureau of
buildings with reference to deteriora
tion. They report "that no other corro
sion of consequence could be discovered
thas had obviously begun and gained
measurable headway before the build
ing was covered in."
Reclaaalfled.
'I understand you have lost your
Yaiet?"
"Yes, Jim is married. Married Lily
Smith."
"I knew her. A regular little apple
blossom."
"She's a Lily at the valet now."—•
Houston Post. '

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