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goUfid by a Spell CHAPTER XXII.— (Continual.) lie left me. Several minutes elapsed, • ltd he did not return. I was becoming uneasy at my absence from my compan ions. Then I heard the curtain fall. I was just going to leave, when Mr. Montgomery came lip to uie again, dress it'! for the street. "I can't find it now, Silas: I will bring It home with me and you can do it to morrow." Vexed and annoyed at this trifliug, I ran round to the front of the house, li lt to re-enter the pit was impossible. The people were crowding out in one dense stream; so [ wan obliged to stand aside until my companions should ap peai\ or until the passage was sutfl cieutly cleared for ujo to go back to seek them. I had not stood there many seconds before I saw Mrs. Wilson forcing her self through the crowd, and looking wild ly about her. She caught sight of me in an instant. "Where is Clara?" she cried, gasping breath. "I have l«»st her in Ilie crowd. Some men pushed between us, and separated her froin me: and from that moment 1 have lost sight of her. Look about you. She must be in the street." The audience were now dispersing in nil directions. 1 p and down, in and out the crowd, here, there and everywhere, 1 eagerly sought for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Wilson, stand ing in a doorway, t-embling and wring ing her hands, soon collected a small crowd round her. "Mad they seen a young lndy, in a black dress, with long golden hair?" she uever #*used asking. \k - * n ninn suggested that the po li< t!io had been standing about the door during the latter part of the performance was the most likely person to have seen her. "Yes. lie had seen n young person an swering the description. She had been one among the fir«t of the crowd to come down the passage. She looked as if she bad io.st some one. When she got into the street n young man touched her upon the arm and said something, and she walked nway with him. Theu h* lust tight of her. "What was the man like?" I asked. "Oh, he was a youngish, smooth-faced fellow, with a cap on," was the reply. The very man who had beckoned me out of the pit. It wns a plot, then; but by whom originated, and for what purpose? "Take a cab; go to How street police station at once, and I will follow you in a few minutes," 1 said to Mrs. Wilson. Back 1 rushed to the stage door, llad Mr. Montgomery left the theater? lie bad followed out at my heels, was the answer. Suddenly I bethought |l»e of the public bouse frequented by Josiah and Mr. Montgomery. Away I ran thither. No; they had not been there that evening. Then I went down to Bow street, where l 1 found Mrs. Wilson, more dead than alive, giving her deposition. "Are you quite certain that the young : lady has not gone off of her own free I will?—some sweethearting case, per haps—only for a little walk—-met some i one she knew, and finding that she had j missed you, he has taken her home?" suggested the functionary who was tak ing flown the depositions. "I'ruy disabuse jour mind or such an Moa. the young lady In question has no friends except those you see here — knows no others —associates with no others." The solemn earnestness of my tones seemed to convince him of his error, for from that time lie gave us a more seri ous attention. "A description shall be sent to the dif ferent heats and police stations, and you had belter issue hills, and if you rare to go to the expense, advertise in tiie daily papers. If we hear anything, we Will let you know. Hut you can make your mind easy upon one point—at least, I think so: wherever she is, she has (tone with her own free will. There's , no accounting for the vagaries of girls." Both myself and Mrs. Wil»oii fe!t very angry at the light and skeptical maimer In which a subject so momentous to us was treated; but the otilcer only smiled at our warmth. Mrs. Wilson expressed her intention of issuing bills early the next morning, offering h reward for her discovery. There was nothing more to be done in that place, for the cab was vvaitiie.:. and 1 persuaded her to return home im mediately. She implored me to nccoin jiany her. No, I would search the neigh borhood; 1 might chance to get some! tidings. | rinding that all her entreaties were | in vain, the old lady reluctantly depart ed alone. Mr. Jonathan was standing upon the doorstep when the cab drove up. Ilelnre the cabman could descend from the ho.\. he had the door open. "Where Is she —where is Clara?" he asked, seeing but one person within. Too utterly terrified and bewildered to think of the oddity of such n question from a stiauger whom she had never seeu before. Mrs. Wilson could only gasp, "She is gone—run away with." Ten minutes afterwards, Mr. Jona than jumped Into the cab that had brought her home, and which he ordered to stay. "To the Bow street police | station as fast as you can drive," he ' cried. All that night 1 wandered about in a frenzied state up and down the streets, down by the river, 1 know not where. It came on to rain, and I was soaked to the akin. Still, hour after hour, ( lin gered about the same spot; the dawn broke and merged Into broad daylight, and the bustle of tiie day began, yet still 1 could not tear myself away; the pass ers-by shrank from me—they must have thought me an escaped lunatic. At last, I felt that nature could hold out no long er; that 1 must fall down upon the pavement If I walked about any longer. 1 can remember dragging myself down to my lodging, throwing myself in my wet clothes upon the bed, and then — all is a blank. CHAPTER XXIII. Wild, grotesque phantasina—a sense of intense suffering, aching pains, parch ing thirst, and an awful oppression up on the brain. And then I seemed to awake from a long, troubled sleep, and an agony beyond my power to describe. I made an effort and succeeded in drawing a little apart the curtains at the foot of the bed. Almost within my reach stood a table, upon which was a moderator lamp, burning low, a jug, tumbler, and some bottles. The faint rays of the lamp showed me a large, gloomy oak-panelled room, with the ceiling painted to match. The win dows opposite me were covered with heavy curtains, and the furniture was dark and very old-fashioned. On one side was a huge fireplace, decorated with oak carvings; in the grate burned a cheerful fire, and there, sitting beside it, dozing, with her face half towards me, was an elderly woman, ft stranger to uie. Having finished my survey, I crawled back to my pillow and lay Mill for n time, feeling very much exhausted with my alight exertion, l'resently the wom an woki' up, came to tlio Hide of the lied, drew the curtains, and looked at me. "You are better," she said, kindly. "I am no glad. You have had a long, weary time of it, but the doctor said there would he a change one way or the other to-night. You're with friends, who have taken every care of you." "Tell me, is Clara foundV" I asked, eagerly. "Oh, yes, she's all right, and will come ami see you as soon as you grow strong er, hut you mustn't talk, or you'll have a relapse." If I had asked for the Emperor of Russia, I believe she would have told me that he was coming to see me as soon as I was better, ller answers were by no means satisfactory, but 1 could perceive that it was useless to try to extract others from her. Several days passed, and I saw no person except the nnrso and the doctor. I put nomo questions to the latter, but lie arswered crabbedly, that if 1 wished to got well, I must keep my mind calm, Mid not ask questions. To keep my mind calm with such memories as wore haunting me was im possible, yet, in spite of my anxieties, I grew stronger and better day by day. Hut the anguish of my wind waxed strength with my body. "Nurse," I said one day, determlced lv, "I must know where I am, under .vliose care, and I must have certain questions of vital importance to me solv ed. 1 know you are concealing these things from me for a good motive, but it is a mistaken one. Instead of calm ing. this incertitude is torturing me, re tarding my recovery. For heaven's sake, tell me where I am. whose house this is, and what people I am with?" "Well, sir." she answered, "I am only obeying my instructions; if I was to go fiom them, 1 should offend my employ ee and tlie doctor, too, and 1 can't af ford to do that. I will ask leave to tell you what I know, which I can assure you is very little, lint if you make haste and get strong, and get about, you will be able to timl out everything for your self." That day I got out of bed for the lirst time, and sat at the window. It looked into an extensive garden, encom passed, as far as 1 could see, by a high wall, lined nitliiu by rows of tall poplar tries. My room was upon the ground floor, and this wall and the trees bound ed iiij vision. I could see naught beyond them. One afternoon 1 had fallen asleep over the lire, suddenly I awoke with n jcik; the rays of a red. autumn sun were str< anting across me, and falling full upon the face of Judith, who was lean ing against the fireplace, looking at me. At first, I thouzht it was a specter of my sleep. I could not believe my eyes; I ut I wns not long left in doubt as to the reality of the vision. An ironical smile curled her lips at the sight of my dismay. "A visit from your wife is evidently nn unexpected pleasure," she said. moeUing- I could not answer her; I could only bur.v my face in my hands and shudder at her appearance. "Is this my reward Tor all the tender ■ ire that has been gi\en yon during your illness?—for bringing you away ftom those wretched lodgings, where v..u might have died? Our married life - 'His likely to lie n bright one." •Would to heaven you had left me to ille!" I cried. "You are no wife of mine." "You x\ ill find it rather difficult to !irove that, or to shako me off." "What pleasure can it lie to you to torture me in this manner?" 1 cried. "Why not leave me to myself?" "Because 1 hate yon. and because I have motives of my own. It gives me pleasure to torture you. No living being lia« ever made me feel so deeply the deg nidation of my life as you have; you, a miserable, spiritless outcast; you. whom, as a brat, 1 have beaten with a rod, and always despised; you shudder at my approach, and turn your eyes from me with loathing; and you nsk me what pleasure it can be to me to torture you! From the hour of my birth, my life has been one torture. I have ever been the victim. At last, the tables are turned —you are my victim; and as others have dealt by me, so will I deal by you! No mercy was ever shown to me; why, then, should I show it to others?" She was still standing against the fire place. I dared not look at her, but I could feel the tigerish ferocity of her eyes. "But I did not come here to rare. First, I came, like a dutiful wife, to congratulate my husband on his conva lescence," she went on, resuming the old irony of voice; "and to comfort him with the knowledge that he is in affec tionate hands; and, In the second place, to arrange certain matters of business with him, which, If he will oblige me with a few moments' attention, I will explain. In the course of to-morrow a woman will come here —In short, the man who committed you to my fath- ABERDEEN HHttALD, MONDAY, APRIL 17 1905 er's charge. I require that you eh all unhesitatingly acknowledge me as yt ur wife in her presence." "Never!" I exclaimed, firmly. "You may kill me, but I will never utter such words!" "I have the ireans of forcing you to speak them, or any other words that 1 may choose to dictate to you." At that moment the door was thrown open. I turned my head and saw Mr. Itodwell standing upon the threshold. CHAPTER XXIV. I win sitting in h large easy chair, with my buck towards the door, and lie did not see me for a time, although, by a sidelong glance, I could distinctly sea him. He started at the sight of Judith, us though he had not expected to se» her, exclaiming, "You here!" "Pray walk in, and allow me to intro duce you to my husband," she said, with the old Irony. "Another unexpected pleasure, no doubt!" Mr. Hodwell advanced into the room, looking somewhat bewildered; but wheu ho saw me, he started up with indig nant surprise, "What is the meaning of this? Who has dared to bring this fellow here'/" he ••rled. "This is too much, Judith. How came you here? How did you know of this place? 1 cannot understand nil this!" lie spoko in a more modified tone, but still looked vexed and wrathful. "It Is very easily explained. My hus band being away from his loving wife, was seized with brain fever In some wretched lodging; the parish doctor, who was attending him, said that it would not he siifo to remove liiin any great distance. In this dilemma, Mr. Mont gomery, who lived a door or two off, pro posed that he should be taken to a house of yours, of which, for certain rea sons of your own, you had given him the keys. As my husband's life is very pre cious to me just now, I thankfully ac cepted tho offer." "Cease this mockery, Judith, and tell me the meaning of all this." "Do you wish me to be serious?" she asked, menacingly. "1 wish to know by what right you have brought this fellow into my house!" "By the right of my own will, John Hodwell; dispute it at your peril." "If you desire a scene. It had better be out of the preseuie of witnesses," lie said, quietly. "What 1 hnv(< to say shall be snid here. 1 have no secrets from him, and what I have to say 1 would have him hear!" "I decline the conference." lie was moving awav. Dike a panther she bounded past him, ami placed her back against tho door. "You <io not leave this room until you have heard all 1 have to say! Disobey me, and i will show you no mercy. I will ruthlessly crush every plan and hopo of your life!" "You?" lie sneered. "Yes, I. Suppose I were to send in formation to How street of the where abouts of a certain young lady, for whose discovery a reward is offered, where would be the fortune you have been scheming, and sinning, and fawn ing for through your whole life';" (To b* continued.) FRUITS OF CALIFORNIA. Watermelons and Strawberries Grow to Neinarknble Size. "Talking about strawberries," said the California it, "but you ought to see some of our fruit. Why, man alive "You raise big strawb rrles, do you?" queried the Peunsylvauian as the other hung on. "Yum—yum!"' "How large';" "I hesitate to tell you. I don't want to be thought a liar." "1 know you raise large berries, and am prepared to believe anything you say. I suppose you grow strawber ries as big as beer kegs?" "Humph!" "Well, then, as big as barrels?" "Humph!" "You don't mean as big as hog heads?" "My dear man. I am living In n house at present which has eight rooms and bath." "Hut you don't mean to tell m? "Kight rooms and a bath, sir, and every room of good size." "And you had all the rooms cut out of a big strawberry! 1 said I was prepared to believe " "Eight rooms and a bath, sir, and one of the coziest brick houses you ever saw. The bricks were made on the premises. I have been ottered !j>7.- 000 for the house." "Yes, but you rather led me to be lieve that the house was one of the monstrous strawberries you raised ou; there." "Then I beg your pardon, sir. It is a brick house. It cost me over *HiO. The money obtained to build it was obtained from tlie sale of water melons." "But about your strawberries?" pro tested the disappointed Keystouer, "you started out to tell me how big they were." 'Strawberries? Strawberries? Oh, well. I'm using one for a tool house and another for a stable, but I'm not bragging about them. It's when you get on the subject of watermelons that I'm ready " Hut the other took up his paper and antd lie guessed he'd see what was fresh from Port Arthur. 1 inprovement. "Your wife Is Improving with her baking, Isn't she?" "Oh, yes." 'Tier cakes and pies now are good enough to eat, eh?" "Oh, no; but she's getting so sho can make them look good enough to oat." —Philadelphia Public Ledger. Two Testa. "Darum is an nwful coward." "What makes yon think so?" "Why, he's afraid of his wife." "Well, of course. But I saw him stop a runaway horse last night."— Cleveland Plain Dealer. Temper, If ungovemed, governs the whole man.—Shaftesbury. Plucky I,it tie Poll j. l'hey were a happy party of children —Kenneth, Arthur, Alice and Polly— as. one bright, cool, summer afternoon, they drove along a country road In a capacious pony carl. The road which they followed, although near the sea, ran partly through pine woods and thickets, and was bordered, here and there, with a tangle of wihlrose and bay bushes, with no houses In sight. Suddenly the cart rolled Into a clearing and approached a railroad track. Ken neth, who was driving, and had lx-en cautioned about the danger near rail roads, listened for a train. Everything was silent, so he chirruped to "Hob I toy," the sturdy pony, encouraging him to cross the rails, .lust in the middle of the track the pony stopped stock-still and refused to budge. "lie Is balky," said Arthur. "J.et's get out and see," cried Alice. They tumbled hastily out, and found to their dismay that one of llob ltoy's hoofs was firmly fastened In a "I'rog" in the track, holding him so that lie could not move from the spot. The children tried with all their might to release him, but In vain did they tug and lift. Then the awful thought struck I'olly that It was almost time for the afternoon train, and what would be come of Hob Hoy and the cart? She exclaimed, "We must flag the train!" The others screamed In scorn: "Flag the train! What with? A pocket hand kerchief'.'" "No," said Polly, stoutly—and she was only seven—"l'll flag the train with my red flannel petticoat; red Is the danger signal, you know." And she whipped off the petticoat and ran down the track, followed by a string of loyal supporters, Kenneth being left to guard the pony. Truly, there was a train, puffing along at its usual speed! The engineer leaned from his cab window, gazing with surprise at this group of hurry ing children waving a red flag. Of course he stopped the train, while the rhlldren were quickly surrounded by questioning passengers who raised a hearty cheer for I'olly when she breathlessly told of the pony's perilous position and of her desire to save him. Strong hands released itob Hoy from his Iron fetter, and the grateful chil dren climbed into the carl, the passen gers went aboard the cars, and the train steamed away, passengers and brakcinen waving a parting salute to the intrepid four. That evening at a dinner party one gentleman remarked to the father of the heroine: "That was a clever tiling which your i'olly did this afternoon." "What do you mean'/" iter father sa id. "Why, didn't you know that she flagged the down train to save the pony " Then the whole story came out. They had been, each and all, afraid to mention the incident that afternoon, fearing they might be forbidden to drive Hob Hoy any more, and not HIP POCKET OF LITTLE USE. No Place for n Had Man to Stow Away a Revolver. "I've Just finished reading." said a man from Kentucky, "a book of Ken tucky life, lu which some one, refer ring to a mountaineer, says something about his coattails hiding the butt of a revolver. The novelists and the newspaper writers, too, arc always representing the bad men of the West and South as reaching for their hip pockets when they are about ready to start something. "The hip-pocket represents the most lamentable ignorance. Gentlemen of the South and West who consider It necessary to go armed do not carry their weapons in their hip pockets. The hip pocket is only used by the toughs of the city, who tote these measly little 3- and US caliber pop guns. "The weapon carried in the South and West for business purposes is generally a 4-1. a weapon guaranteed to stop one's antagonist. As a rule an able-bodied man can take a round of these little !t- and .'lB pellets Into his system and still whip his weight In wildcats, but lie is down and out when a 44 lilts him. "You can readily see," continued the man from Kentucky, "that a weapon of 44 caliber, with a barrel long enough to insure accuracy of aim, is too large to tote in the hip pocket, and, besides, tli.it is the most incon venient place possible lo carry a weapon. When you want a gun you generally want it quick, and if it is in your hip pocket you must go to the trouble of throwing back your coat and always run the risk of having the weapons stick, lu the West weap ons are worn exposed in holsters at the waist, in easy reach of the hands. 1 n the South the weai>on users wear their 44's in holsters under the left arm, suspended from a harness that goes around the chest and over the shoulder. "In tills way no vulgar display is made, yet when the weapon is needed all one has to do Is to let his right hand fall over, careless like, as if be were going to take a lead pencil out of his vest pocket, and he Is ready for any argument." LITTLE STORIES AND INCIDENTS That Will Intereat and Entertain Young Readers. dreaming that any one on the train would think that what they did was worth mentioning. Ah tlio pony's accident was not due to any fault of tlio children, their fath er allowed them to continue their drives, but were urgently warned to avoid railroad crossings In the future. —St. Nicholas. Ylie lightning Kiprcu. Down grandmother's banister rail Swift as the wind I slide; I'm the engineer that never knows fear. And I travel far and wide. Each time I rush upstairs (JrauilnintliiT cries. "Don't fall!" When—whiz! —l drop without any stop He t ween Huston and Montreal. I hurry again ti> the top — Oh, my, it is such fun!— And then I'm off again And arriving at Washington. Once more I am off like a flash 'l'o carry the New York mail — I am sure you would guess 'tis the light ning express On grandmother's banister rail. —Youth's Companion. lloti'tH to Girls. Don't be rude toward your brothers. Hoys' findings are an sensitive as girls'. Don't forget tlmt you owe the sani" respect and obedience to your father that you do to your mother. Often the rightful head of the house is placed at the foot through sheer thoughtless ness on the part of his family. Don't forget that it is in most cases the father who devotes Ills life in work and worry to provide for his family, and show him the gratitude lie de serves. Don't have secrels from your moth er. Hemember that she was a girl once like yourself, and that site will prove the most: sympathetic confidant In the world, for she holds your hap piness and welfare at heart. All or Nothing. This Is a story from Cumberland Island: A teacher was batiling in the surf, and a dozen or more of his youthful scholars were looking on, when one of them exclaimed: "How I wish he would drown!" "1 don't," said another. "1 want a shark to eat him." "Hotter ask for a whale," said the smallest of the crowd. "It kin swaller him whole!" —Atlanta Constitution. Color Didn't Show. "Oil, Cecil, you have sat down to tea without having your hands wash ed!" "It doesn't matter, auntie: I'm eating brown bread and butter." —Scraps. Criticising the linliy. Small Harold after sizing up the new baby said, "Well, that kid hasn't got any hair to comb, but lie's got an ! awful lot of face to be washed." TINY LENSES FOR ACTORS. Made to Fit Clone to lCyebnll and In distinguishable to Audience. The enterprising optician has come to the rescue of stage folk who are af illctoil with near-sightedness. Glasses fitted with tiny lenses are now made for use of the actor so afflicted, and who, 111 deference to (lie diameter he is portraying, may not wear the regu lation eyeglasses or spectacles. These special glasses tit close to the eyeball and are hardly distinguish able from the front of the house, save when the footlights are at their high est pitch of Illumination. The nose piece, or bridge, connecting the lenses Is covered with a flesh-colored mate rial, which aids the Illusion. it is tat Id that Hichard Mansfield is responsible for the innovation of the oculistic boon. At any rate, he 1* credited with being the first actor of note to wear them, ills example.has been followed by others, and at pres ent there are not several pairs of the neiw glasses worn. The careless ob server of Harr.v Davenport in "It Hap pened in Nordland" will catch an occa sional gleam of glassy reflection as the comedian circulates about the stage In his successful efforts to entertain. ■Chorus and "show" girls are de barred from the privilege of wearing glasses. It Is no uncommon thing for the visitor behind the scenes to sc« several members of the musical play wearing eyeglasses, but when the cue Is given for appearance on the stage tile glasses are dropped down in bo dices or placed in h convenient place to be picked up at the exit, in the blaze of light to which minor members of theatrical companies are subjected eyeglasses would lie an incongruity. And oftentimes the afflicted ones are put to great inconvenience. Deprived of their artificial source of vision, they are almost helpless and depend, to a large extent, upon their coworkers for guidance.—New York Press. Only Two Nations Out of Debt. Bolivia and Slam are the only civil ized or seml-clvilizcd powers without a national debt. Women live longer than men, it is said, but they never live so many years. llP^I Up—Would you rather be pretty or witty? She—Sir!—New York Sim. The coal mail should be brought t<> •ee the error of hi* weighs — Philadel phia Record. "Does >fr. Heuben llaybrlck Icepp ttoerdere?" "He takes 'em, bn< h« don't keep 'em."—Chicago ChronMe. Ella—He cornea of good famHy, doesn't he? Stella—Yes, he's tlio enly thing I know against It.—Town Topics. Johnny—Pa, 1* It wrong to steal from a trust? Johnny's Pa —Don't let the Question bother you, my soil. l<t'i Impossible.—Cleveland ledger. Gourmand (after a table d'hote)— Anything else, waiter? Walter—Chie more peach, sir, and you'll 'ave eal the menu.—lxjinion Bystander. "Dey ain't no sich thing ez giltin' married In heaven." "Course dey ain't. Don't de Bible tell you it's a place er pcace en rest?"— Atlanta Constitution. Mrs. Hatterson— I didn't see yon at the lecture 011 "The Simple Life." Mrs. Cutterson— Why, 110; I had no Idea It was going to be such a swell affair.— Brooklyn I.lfe. Wife—lt is so kind of you to put on my boots for me. Kneeling Husband (tugging away)—it's a—a—pleasure, my dear. Still, I'm glad you're not a centipede.—Pick-MeUp. Miss Itlter—Could you use anything in your "Household Department" this I week? Country Editor—Yes, we could handle a couple of dozen of fresh eggs nicely.—New York Times. "What conclusion does that cam paign orator reach In his argument?" "He never arrives at a conclusion. He merely stops now and then to taka breath." —Washington Star. Willie—Teacher told us to-day that there's a certain kind o' tree that grows out o' rocks. I can't remember what It was. ills Pa—lt's a family tree, 1 guess.—Philadelphia Ledger. The Irish l::dy declared to the mag istrate that the defendant had stolon her hen. "llow do you know It la your hen?" asked the Judge. "Know It!" cried the Irate lady. "I have known that hen ever since It was an fgg" "VOll probably don't remember me," began the stlf-made man proudly, "but twenty years ago, when I was a poor, humble boy, you gave 1110 a message to carry " "Yns. yes," cried tile busy man. "Where's tho answer?" ; "Yoti are the first one to whom I : have shown this poem," the young I poet went on; "1 was wooing the muss [Inst night——" "Poor fellow!" ropllad tlie editor, handing hack the manu script. "It's too had she rejected you." —Chicago Journal. Hicks —1-low do you happen to be going fishing on Friday ? I thought you believed Friday was an unlucky day. Wicks—Well. I always have. Hut It occurred to me this morning that perhaps It would be unlucky for the flsti.—Somervlllo Journal. "I'm afraid you're not wise," said | the fair girl. "Why?" demanded the persistent suitor. "Because 'a word to the wise Is sufficient,' and I have said 'No!' to you." "Yes, but I'm wise enough to know that a woman's 'No' may eventually mean 'yes.' "—Phila delphia Press. I At the end of thirty years Til ram ! had accumulated a fortune. Ills wife | rind daughter were delighted. "For," 1 said they, with becoming modesy, "we now not only have money enough to cut a splurge, but poor dear papa Is too broken down to appear among the best people."—Life. "It's so long since you last called upon me I was beginning to think you were forgetting ine," said Miss Pechls, as she came down to the young man In the parlor. "I'm for getting you," replied the ardent youth, "and it'* for j getting you that I've called to-night, ('■an I have you?"—Kennebec Journal. The passenger who had been holding | himself up by a strap sat down In a seat that had just been vacated. "There Is plenty of room, ma'am," ho said to the pudgy, little matron sitting next. 'Don't move." "We don't have tx>," she said, with a cheerful smile; "we own the house we live In." —Chi- cago Tribune. "I tell ye what," asserted Old Man Splggets. "that there painter feller Is a fine artlnt." "What impressed you about his work?" "Well, ther" \va< a pietur he called "The Rainstorm,' an' I swan, it was that nat'ral that I hadn't looked at it three minutes I*- tore my corns begin hurtln' me."— Cleveland Leader. "Prosperity?" said f>r. Slighc«m, the eminent surgeon. "Thero Is altogether too much prosperity! Ft Is killing busi ness." "In wliat way 7" asked the other. "Why, sir. almost, anybody can afford to have appendicitis nowa days. and. In consequence, nil of my best patient* regard It as too common, and refuse to have it."- Chlcngo Trib une. A gentleman who was In the habit of dining dally at a certain restaurant said to the waiter (an Irishman): "In stead of tipping yon every day, Tat. I will give you your tip In a lump sum at the end of the month." "Would you moind paying ine In advance, sorr?" "Well! that is rather a straug'i request. However, If you are in want (if some inor.ey now, here's half a crown for you, but did you mistrust me?" "Oh, no, son-, but i am leaving here to raornw."