Newspaper Page Text
THE RED STORM Or the Days of Daniel Boone M By JOEL ROBINSON CHAPTER XVI!.-(C<inrinned.» "There is your rifle," said his bene fa<M reus. "I see It; but I don't feel «s though I could go without Nayin' a few words Tt«ttt seem to bp pressin' m> from my fienrt. Yon have waved my life and 1 (hunk you for It," retiirncd I'm- forester, ■with much feeling. "I've been looking «t you for n good while lis you sai by the tire ho pensive and melancholy-like, «nd somehow or oilier I took a l'aney to you." "I'm §uch n half savage tint I don't •" • ! iow anybody living could be pleased ■Willi me." replied Innis, weeping vio lently. "If anybody else should dare to rail you a half savage. I reckon they'd never do it ngniii in my hearing." relurned liallard emphatically. "The fact is you unit me exactly, ami I hope you'll ex <•llß9 mo for say in' no. You see. I'm a plain-spealiin' man, ami 1 say what 1 mean mid mean lioncs!. I don't want to rnnke you blush, nor be I'orrad on «ltort acquaintance; but if you shouldn't (also a likiti' to me, I'm sure that in the course of natur' sonirthm' will break." The bold scout laid bis hand on his heart, as If to Intimate that the "sonie <hill'" which might be expected to "break" was in that particular locality. "Do (to, Mr. Itnllard. for I don't feel • s though I ought to stand talking with you here. It's not likely we shall meet • gain," said Innis. "L shall go, but I shall come to see you again," said Italian!, moving to ward the opeu air. The scout paused and turned once more toward his bene factress. "I hope this affair won't get you inlo • tiv trouble," he added thoughtfully. "Don't think of me: I shall do very well," returned Innis, hastily. "It you should ever want a protector, or feel the need of a friend, let mo know ir. and I'll go through (ire and water to servo you," lie milled. And invoking a liearl.v blessing upon Innis MelCce. lie glided quietly out of Ihe cavern, and the cofll, free air of heaven kissed his brow. As lie hurried from the bills, lie forgot the drill ache occasioned by Hip blow upon his heart, and thought only of the renegade's daughter, whose beauty had •Itiilc conuuered him. lie resolved to week ber again at, the eurliest opportu nity. and do all in his power to make a favorable impression upon her young lieart. CHAPTKU XVIII Allan Norwood mined Simon Kenton from the ground, ntid discovered licit |)lo»d was flowing front (tic sleeve of liis hunting bliirt. lie instantly bared the left arm, and found that a ball had lodg ed in ft just below the left shoulder. He then proceeded to bind hi* handker chief tightly about the limb, in order to •top the profuse hemorrhage. Kenton noon revived, and sturdily protested that the wound was a mere scratch, ami that he should have no dittlcnliy in going for ward according to their original inten tions, A tire was kindled, ami a choice piece of venison which they had brought wilh them cooked for their evening meal. Ken ton's wounded arm had ceased bleeding, end lie professed to feel much refreshed, end in good spirit*. He proposed that they should proceed toward a ('herokce village which was situated in n south eastern direction. If llnsaltlte had been •■arried there by any of I lie war parties, the greater portion of lite distance was probably accomplished by water, which would effectually bttllle pursuit in liie or dinary way; consequently. t„ any thing of Uosalthe, providing that she lutd been thus abducted, the chances of success would be greatest to take the nearest way to Ihe village, and trust to circumstances and their own resources for Ihe rest. itefore morning Norwood l perceived that his companion began to falter: his foot pressed the soil less firmly; lie gave evident signs of exhaustion, and his breathing grew Itnrried. His haggard features and toilsome tread checked the impatience and excited the pity of Allan. '"Phis is not right!" lie exclaimed, slopping suddenly. "Yon are exerting yourself beyond your strength." "I believe," said Kenton, faintly, "that the blood lias started again." Norwood hastened to examine lite wound, and found lltal the handkerchief had been displaced by his exerlion in walking and the bleeding had commenc ed anew, and was very profuse. The handkerchief was again adjusted and they were on the point of moving on when the bark of a dog attracted their attention. Kenton leaped to his feet, end laying his right hand heavily upon Allan's shoulder, said, in a lone that sent the blood upon its way with a quicker Impulse; "Chat Is an Indian dog: we are pur sued. Nothing remains for us btit Jo run for our lives, and break tiie trail," replied Kenton. "Let us lose no time, then. I fear more for you than for myself; your strength may fall ou account of that un fortunate wound." "When my strength fails, then you must leave me to my fate," said Ken ton. calmly. "Never, while I have life." said his companion. "It were shame indeed for me to abandon a brave man lit the hour of his most pressing need. May heaven save me froni that heinous sin!" The young men uow exerted their ut most strength to evade their savage pur suers. but occasionally the bark of a •log admonished them that tliey were still unsuccessful. "We can never elude litem while that dog is after iib," said Kenton, at length. ' We must wait till lie comes up and shoot liim." "That will be a dangerous experiment, for the Indians are probably nut far be hind him." "It's our only chance; so you may go on. I will stop and dispatch him." "Rather reverse that proposition, for I am In better condition than you." But Kenton would nut change his res olution, anil Norwood protested that he would not leave his side. Both the par ties stood perfectly still, and the dog came on at full speed. "1 will atop his lurking," observed Al lan. cocking his riHe. "Take good aim," said Kenton, anx iously. "Me calm. 1 am always self-possessed in the hour of danger. 1 am called u good shot, also." Our hero took deliberate aim and fired at the dog: he fell, and they heard a rustling among Ihe leaves, produced by his death struggles. '"Twas coolly done," remarked Ken ton. "And now let us change our course once more. When you timl strong grape vines that have climbed tall trees, lay bold of them and swing yourself forward as far as possible, in order to break the trail. I will set the example." They had gone but a short distance from ilie spot before an opportunity offered to try I his experiment. Kenton grasped the vine with both his hands, as well as his wounded arm would per mit. and swung himself forward a dis tance of several yards, and striking upon very rocky soil, his feet left, no percep liblo imprint. Allan followed his exam ple, with similar results, and then both ran for life, for they heard the sav ages approaching. All the various artifices to baffle pur suit were resorted to: but when the [tar ties paused, ready to fall tlown with exhaustion, the sound of the savage horde came faintly to their ears through the intervening distance. "I cannot continue this much longer," said Kenton. "My strength is failing fast. (Jo on; you may yet escape; but iT you try to save me, both will perish. I will await here the coming of the In dians. My rille anil pistols nro loaded, and I shall kill the first that appears. Yes, I shall have the pleasure of three good shots before I die." Without making any reply, Allan plac ed his ear to the earth, ami listened wilh breathless interest. He heard ap proaching steps, and knew the elastic bounding tread of the red men. lie grasped his rille firmly, stood a moment in thought, uud looked earnestly at his friend. "My dear Kenton!" exclaimed Allan. "I would not desert so bold and heroic a comrade for a thousand worlds; no, not to save my life. Trust to me. and we will both escape, or fall side by side. My plan is formed; proceed as fast as you are able, and I will soou overtake you." "But this generosity is madness; by giving your life to yonder yelling de mons!, you will not prolong mine five minutes—scarcely as many secouds!" cried Kenton. "I do not value existence so lightly that I am willing to throw it away without a chance of success. So go for ward, in heaven's name!" said Allan. "I will," replied Kenton, sorrowfully. "We may never meet again; farewell!" With tearful eyes, and heart melted and subdued, the forester arose to his feet, and making a desperate effort, stag gered ou with a speed that surprised Norwood. The latter threw himself upon the ground among the rank shrub bery. He laid his rifle beside him, anil drew his hunting knife from his belt. The light, bounding footsteps which he had heard, came more distinctly to his anxious ears. lty the sound* which he hail heard, lie judged that one of tlie pursuers was far in advance of all (lie rest. If that con clusion was just, he could wait fop the foremost savage to come up, and then slay him on the spot. In the event that there should prove to lie more than one. it would only remain for him lo do the liest he could, and leave all to the (Jreat Disposer of events. Allan's eyes were turned with intense interest toward the spot where a painted face, or faces, were expected to appear. One moment more of breathless expecta tion, and a gigantic Indian sprang into view. He was darling .ouwanH like a bloodhound, panting with exertion. In his right hand he held his gun. nud his eyes were fixed with fearful eagerness upon (lie trail, casting occasionally keen and sweeping glances into the forest be yond. Ife came on: he was flying past the spot where the bold hunter lay. The latter bounded up. leaping upon the sav age like a young lion —the hunting knife Unshod in the first faint beams of the morning, and then sank deep in the red man's breast. A hollow groan was giv en to the gentle winds, and the pursuer had run his race. The athletic limbs quivered an instant, and all was still. Allan thrust his crimson blade into its sheath, cast one look at the quiet out lines of the body, and then left the spot with hasty tread. lie overtook Ken ton. who was dragging his exhausted frame along. When lie heard steps be hind iiiin he turned about and cocked his rifle, thinking the savages were upon him; but saw instead 'the resolute face of our hero. "My dear Norwood!" he cried, while large tears rolled down his sunburnt cheeks, "I never expected lo see you again on earth. What have you done?" "I have slain 1 lie leader of the pur suit; I have sent him on the eternal trail thnt no warrior ever retraced." "You have done well; the next half hour will decide tills question op life or death," returned Kenton. "I know it; now lean on me. and we will lintHe them yet. Here is a brook; we will walk lu it —it may break the trail." By Norwood's help Kenton was able to proceed. They doubled on their own tracks; they changed their direction many times; and when the sun was an hour high, no sound of pursuit could be heard, anil they began to hope that the savages were ai fault, or had aban doned the enterprise altogether. It was now imperatively necessary that Kenton should rest. While looking for a place suitable to that object, they discovered an Indian lodge, which proved inl HHBULD, MONDAY, APRIL 23,1906 to be antnhabited. Of this they imme diately took possession. To the sur prise of both parties, they perceived that a Are had recently been kindled there, and several articles of comfort were left, among which were pieces of venison, mats, a few undressed deerskins, etc. Allan hailed lliis discovery as a sin gular piece of good fortune, and instant ly set liiuiself at work to minister prop erly to the wants of his friend. He dressed his wound as well us he could, searched for a spring, brought him coo! ami refreshing water, and then arranged the mats ami deerskins, and prevailed upon him to lie down and recruit his ex hausted energies. Kenton complied, making efforts dur ing the time to induce Norwood to leave him there, and put a safer distance be tween himself and the Indiuns, who might possibly be on their trail. Our hero was of course deaf to these suggestions; and in a short time had the pleasure of seeing his comrade sink into a deep ami tranquil sleep. He then kindled a lire and moving about softly, commenced cooking as well as the case would admit, some of the venison so providentially provided. While Allan was engaged in this man ner. a human figure darkened the lodge door. The unexpected visitor was an Indian maiden. When she beheld our hero, she drew back with an exclama tion of surprise. "Come in." sail) Allan, perceiving sh« was in doubt. "What does the pale face seek here?" she asked, with a dignified air. "I don't know that it would he proper to make you my conlidiiiite," replied Allan, with a smile. "Confidence sometimes makes friends." added the Indian girl, in excellent Eng lish, though somewhat loftily. "I know it, daughter of the red man." answered Norwood. "Are any of your people with you?" "1 am alone; are you afraid?" replied the maiden. "Not of you, certainly," said Norwood with a smile. "Why are you so near our village?" Inquired Star-Light. "A young maiden has disappeared from the station 011 the Kentucky riv er," rejoined our hero, resolving to trust her with the object of his mission. "Such things often happen: but why do you seek her in this direction? Do you lay this new sin at the door of the Cherokee? Is the red face always at fault? Kid the Oreat Spirit make them a nation of thieves?" "I said not so; hut we seek that which is lost in all places where there is a posihility of its being found. Is it not so?" "Know that the White Cloud is safe: she will return again to Booneshorougii before the next moon. Co back and tell her friends so." "What strange thing is this you say?" cried Allan. "Am 1 speaking to the winds, that you do not understand? Are my word* *0 idle that they do not interest you? I said that the while maiden was sale," rejoined Star-Light. "Where is she? I.et me see her —let me speak to her!" cried Allan. "What is While Cloud to you?" naked Star-Light, coldly, looking steadily at Allan. "Oh, she is much! I think of her and dream of her!" exclaimed Norwood. "And does she dream of you?" resum ed Star-Light, in the same tone. "Alas, no! She does not even know me. 1 am impatient to know more. If you really speak truly, lead me to Bo salthe," added Norwood. "1 should lend you to your death. Von would never return to the great fort to say that the pale maiden lives," returned Star-Light, emphatically. "Hosalthe is a captive among your peo ple—how, then, can she be safe?" ask ed the young man. "That is known to me and not In you. 1 will tell 110 more," said Star- Light. "VOll shall!" cried Norwood, starting to his feet. "The daughter of the proud Cherokes fears nothing. Site is willing to make the friends of the White-Cloud glad by sending them word that she is safe; hut should yon torture her with tire sh« would tell no more," replied Star-Light, drawing up her person majestically. The dignified and assured air of the Cherokee maiden arrested Allan in hit purpose. lie stood before her irreso lute and embarrassed. Before he had recovered his self-l>ossessioii, Star-Light had glided from the lodge, snd disap peared in the forest. (To h« continued.* The Hell* of Kl>K In fill. The metal tongue ol' the big bell rings out many changes to our modem ears. It speaks of disaster and death, of rejoicing and devotion. In Kuglaud it often tells of old times and quaint customs. Mr. Ititchtield, in a book on Old Kngland, gives some of ti"- tradi tions handed down through i.■ "tin tinnabulation of the bells." In some parts of the country ;lie bell which tolls the old year out i- called! the "Old Lad's Passing Bell.' In west ern lOngland the liells |ieal merrily on "Oak Apple Day," to celebrate the es cape of King Charles at Boscobel. An other bell, rung at the beginning of Lent, is known as "Pancake Bell," lie cause, in old-time phrase, it "summons people away from their pancakes to confession and fasting." A lively peal of liells is often rung at the end of the Sunday morning ser vice, and is called "Pudding Bell." Per haps its purpose is to announce to the stay-nt-homes that service is over and that the pudding may come out of the oven. Every night at five minules past nine "Great Tom." the great bell of Christ Church College at Oxford, booru9 out its ponderous note one hun dred and one times. This particular number was chosen in accordance with the number of students at the founda tion of the college. A man always with bis eyes on the ground blimps his head; a man with his nose always in the air etubs bis toe. A clam recently taken from Green wich Bay. Rhode Island, weighed an ounce over two pounds. DISAPPEARING VILLAGES. ■wallotved t> bf Kamaekant •! 9m on Knarllah C«aat. Even the least sensitive will feel I something akin to a shock at the an-! notincemeut made at the national sea defense conference thut 1 lTisquare miles of land have been swallowed up by the sea on the Yorkshire coast alone, and this in time that has elapsed since the Itomau invasion, says the l<oudon News. At the close of the meeting K. R. Matthew* said: "The annual loss on the whole east (oast of England is larger in area tbn.i the Island of Heligoland. And, al though many thousand acres of land bine been reclaimed in Lincolnshire. Cheshire and elsewhere, (lie balance Is still several hundred square miles 011 tiie wrong side and the best authorities deny Hint this gain lias ever equaled Hie loss. "The constant reduction in area of the remainder of the Itritish isles is also considerable; the sen is steadily encroaching on the shores of Scotland. Ireland anil Wales, for from the year IXIiT to IIXMI the total area of (ireat f'.ritnin diminished from srt,!»i4.;jiio icres to niS.7B-_'.o.):: acres; a net loss of IKJ.'JO" acres." Another delegate. Mr. Oheverton- Hrow 11, who lives close to tlie sea at Withernsea, and for many years had every opportunity of making the fore shore a s|>ecial study, informed our representative that some four miles of laud In width had disappeared from the coast: between Spurn and Bridling ton during the last few centuries. This means a loss of about 11.1,200 acres of land. Values at £:!») per acre the mon etary loss would amount to Ct,4!>t!,ooo in laud alone. Several villages have I wen completely swallowed up by the waves. No trace hi left of Monkeswlte. which. according ,'o Domesday, contained two "cni-tt uttes" of land, or 240 acres. Thorp, which once covered an area of GSIO tu-res, tiad been reduced by 1870 to 14S acres and in recent years slips of the coast have taken place in the neighlior- Iwmd of as much as .">OO yards lu length by forty to fifty yards in width. ' Two other striking illustrations of tile manner in which the waves relent lessly devour the land were given to our representative. In 17t'i6, the chan cel of the then Kilnsea church, on the llolderness coast, was ninety-five yards from the cliff, but this church was swallowed entirely by the sea many years ago ami the whole of old Kilnsea las been absorbed within the last cen tury. The present Kilnsea or New Kilnsea is likewise suffering heavily. The Blue Bell Inn, ill the nclghlior hood, has 11 stone in the east wall In scribed: "Built in the year 1847; dis tance from sea. ~».'14 yards." In Sep tember. 1X7(1, it was :«»2 yards from the sea. so that the loss has been five yards per annum. AMERICAN SPEECH UNIFORM. Olaiir ilin>rrnt l.anH'naite" and IJln !<-«•«• ( Neil In lirmt Britain. It has lieen observed thnl the lan guage spoken in the I'nited States is remarkably uiiit'orui. True, there are iimuy dialed.*, hut Croat Britain, less iti area than any one of half a dozen' states, contains such very different | languages as English, Welsh and tlie| Caelic of the Scottish highlands, to! say uothitig of the provincial dialects! of Cornwall and Yorkshire arid the; unique s|iecch of the London cockney,| while in this country, with its vast ex panse of territory, its settlement by Spanish. I'rench. Dutch and Swedish colonists and its millions of iniini grants drawn from nearly every conn try. large and small, nil over the world, there is far greater uniformity j of speech than in any other land of equal area and |iopulatioii. The causes can lie readily seen. The' public schools have made this a no tion of readers and the press has sup plied books and papers without limit. Press associations have done their part dm aril giving a uniform and fairly good tone to the newspaper langunge i,l' the day. The telegraph and tele I and cheap iMistage have brought iti>iaut parts of tile country into quick and easy communication and so have aided in teaching a common language. The railroad has |ieiieirated every corner of the laud and made a nation of travelers. Countless human shut tles thus are thrown daily across the laud in every direction, carrying with) them the threads of thought and s[ieech j' and doing their part to make one pat tern of the whole. Tlie Point of View. . Clieor tip. What rigid have you to carry a fu-! neriil in your face? The world has i troubles of Its own. Cheer up Hnd change your point of j view. Your ills are mostly imaginary. Why, man alive! in five minutes' walk jou can find scores of people worse off than you. And here you are going through the world feeling sorry for j yourself—the meanest sort of pity In ih<> world. You are nursing an iugrown [ Illusion. Hid yourself of the bogle: man, and Cheer up.—Omßha New*. rittabiirit Xntorlely. "Yea, h# lived in Pittsburg for twen ty years." "ISut I've never semi his name In the Pittsburg papers." "No. You see lie moved away just a» soon as lie made his money and befort the report found it out." —Cleveland Plain Dealer. Willie there are said to be thousands r»f apostles of the Simple Life, who eat nothing hut bread and cereals, the woman never lived who ever drew one a* a guest. INSURANCE LAW REFORMS. lo»« of tha Thlnico Ilia I'ollcy Should rnnlßln. Certain changes in the law can help make life Insurance what it should lie. though wider jiultllr knowledge must he the basis both for the law ami for the Improvement. nays the World's Work. The law can make il easier to tinder stand what one pays for when he buy* a life Insurance ]*)llcy. and to prevent | his being swindled by false representa t lons. The law can offer only part of the remedy, but it can do this: 1. Forbid a life insurance company ' from selling anything except pure life Insurance policies. I!. Prescribe a standard policy, sim ple and intelligible. 3. Require every policy to state 011 ! Its face lioth the total premium and the Items which go to make up that total - the mortality charge, the reserve and the amount added to meet the expenses. 4. Require thai all savings in mor tality, collections and interest on the reserve assets be credited annually on the next premium (hat will fall due. r>. Apply (he savings bank law to the Investment of life insurance assets. 6. Stop the robbery of unfortunate policyholders in surrender values and make life Insurance irrevocable. A life Insurance policy is not a personal In vestment. but a protection for the pol- lcyholder's family or creditors. There are companies which sell sim ple forms of i Mil Icy. and even tin* most complicated forms can hp put in an In telligible language I'.v an Insurance lawyer for a reasonable fee. The cost of the annuiil charge for dJ>atli losses, the excess interest 011 the sums set aside for reserve and 1 lie allowance to meet expenses can all he ascertained through insurance publications and the gain and loss exhibits required In sev eral of the States. Hut chiefly the evil of regarding life Insurance as an in vestment and subjecting it to the |>erils of Investments exists In almost every form of policy and rei|uires positive legislative action. SURE SIGNS. The usual group was gathered round the stove In the corner store, and the talk fell on domestic discipline. "I al ways know when my wife's going to have the minister and his wife to tea." said Mr. Hill, gloomily. "Seems 's if 1 couldn't do a thing right for days be forehand. She'll sjMMk of the way I brush my liair, and how I'm not care ful enough brushing my clothes, and what poor table manners I've got, how •trange and awkward I use my fork, and so 011. 1 tell you I'm alioilt bent out by the time she tells me they're coming that night." "My wife lakes it out in dusllug and scrubbing." said Mr. Saunders, "and seems to uie she's right after me with a dust pan and brush every minute and every step 1 take for days. 1 have to walk same as if there was in Invaleed In the house, for fear my tread will leave a mark somewhere*. I don't take a mite of comfort for two or three ! days, she's at me so. That's how I al j ways know when she's going to have : "em." ! "Over to our house it's new recipes." said Mr. Itanisdell, and everybody | looked sympathetic. "When I've eat something I've never hail before rot three days running, sometimes lietter'n. sometimes worse, and she tpieslloiiH me sharp as to which way I like It best, and which way it looks best, and whether I'd advise more or less fiavor ■ lng, I always know the minister and liisj ' wife are on the way, so to speak." "I've got another way of telling." said little Mr. Peters, his shrewd old face assuming an Inscrutable look. "It's nothing to do with the house, nor the table, nor ine. nor the children, nor dusting, nor any such works." "Well, speak out!" said Mr. Itauis dell. Impatiently. "Don't look so knowledgable, for It's inore'n I can hear." "Well. sup|Mise she's planning to have >111 for supper on Thursday," began Mr. l'eters. with great deliberation, "on Tuesday morning alsuit eight o'clock she sets me to ironing, while she goes and Invites 'em—that's how I know!" __ i So Tip. j, "Your card a*kH your customers to i 'report to (he cashier if dissatisfled." " said the cranky diner. "and I want to ' say that I don't like the way that waiter sprved me." ! "flow odd." replied tin- cashier, "fie I was Just telling tne he didn't like the j way you served him." Philadelphia I Ledger. i H»r < unlrlbiHory \r a ll K rner. "Yen. lir> actually linrl 111* wife ar retted." "What did lie charge her with?" "Contributory negligence." : "How was tlinl "Why. il seems that lio struck at her [ fiercely and she dodged mid li<» amash j ed Ills lianil against the w a 11."—('leve ' land Plain Dealer. Mure Knonßh. "So lie lias failed, eb? Well, I'm not •urprised. Me was nothing hut a moun tebank, anyway." "Well, lie's a mountebank nipt now." —Philadelphia ledger. i A llMtr-HVlghl. Caller —And are you aud Tommy In Uie aame class at achool? Johnny—Saw. Tommy fights at 62, in' I weigh 90 when I'm trained down. —Cleveland I>eader. There la hardly a king In Christen dom to-day whose wife doe* not over top him foj a head. WIT OP THE YOUNGSTERS. "What is n heroine, EW»V Mfcrrt the teacher of 11 small pupil. *A»y woman who is married. mamma tmjn." answered Klsie. (.race —Teacher say* hp must stawy* do our duty. What is duty? MHi It's the thing we ought to A) wlnw w« want to do someahing pise. Small Boy—l want to g«t a kale of hay. Dealer—What <lo you want wfth hay? Is it for your fatlierl Mattill Hoy No, sir. It's fur our Imvm. Teacher —Here's a little sum IB «Ali tion for you. If your father gnim foil li) cents and your mother gave jmi f> what would you I lien ha to? .litmy— I'd have a tit. Mr. Washington—George. some «n« has cut down my favorite cIH-rrj tree. He a man, now. and say "I «IM M with my little hatchet." I.ittle Gwurgw—All right. |Kip. You did it with yonr Ttttla hatchet. Mamma—You must lie nr» forty Mre ful, darling. The doctor says ytttw iijs tcm is all upset. I.ittle ]H)k--'Vw. 1 guess it is. mamma, 'cause my tatrt's asleep, and people must lie terrlbjj up set when they go to sleep at tfte WMing end. "One by one our friends pass away," mused the old lady, as a funeral pro cession was passing liy I lie twusa. "Well, grandma," remarked Wtt>l» .1-year-old Harry, "you woukht'i> want i 'em to go two by two or in btra«hes, would you?" | "Mamma," said little Klsie, "when lieople are ashamed they a I way* get red in the face, don't they';" "1 ht j Move so dear," was the reply, '"■•en," i continued the little observer, "I wender I why Uncle George only gets it shamed | In his nose?" THEIR TASTE WAS NOT SO BAD. The Browns Wire Nlitnrirrvil la Urlr rhnlrf of n WrdillnK ftlfl, "It must have ••out a lot of meney," remarked Mr. Xt'wlywwl. "Yes, It's expensive, tmt Wn split* the ugliest thing I t'M'r saw," Mur mured Mrs. Xewl.vwed. "And the Browns have *n«h good taste as a rule. l'tn really mirprfcwd tlint they .should have sent mel a thing." aud Ixjth bride and lirtdegroom surveyed gloomily a silver tray sever ed with one of those designs thai neem to rise up and smite one hptweeii the eye*. "But. then, dear. It's really the enly ugly thing we got," coinforteif th» bride, "and think what a terrthte col lection those Bannennnnft reectred! And all the ugliest things were front their richest relatives, too, mi they couldn't possibly exchange er hid* them away." "That's true." The h»i»top;»e«iH's gloom lifted. "And since the Dvewns have moved West, we can hvry this In the back yard and tlieyll never lie the wiser." "Bury HI" exclaimed Mr*. Mpwl.v -wed In allocked tones. "Bury -TVS worth of silver —for it must he werth fully thill! Ho. I'll tell .you what we'll do." aud a frown, the entwnrd and visible sign of an idea, eienned the bride's white forehead. "We will give the tiling to Lily fichmhtt— you know she is to be married next week — and (ieruians like that inanntve rtnff —It's used a great deal abroad. "Phen, we'll spend the money we idionM have had to pay out for a Schmidt present in buying something really nfee tor our selves." "But It has our monogram engraved on It." objected the hridegrnm. "But it Is solid silver, and It will stand having ours erased and another cut In." replied Mrs. Newly wed. So the bridegroom went downtown next morning armed with the frilver tray. He returned with it hi the even ing. "My dear, we slandered the Brawn*." he said. "They haven't such poor faiffte. after all. In fact, they have Much ex cellent. taste that they couldn't ntand this thing in the house. When V took It to the silversmith he said the nM>nn gram had already been ernmd enoe, and It couldn't be done again."— York I'ress. Where the Ka«*ftemenf IV it*. *•1 don't sup[kmm» II'» niinnfiiml fc>r me to he excited now Hint tln> hour for m.v marriage to tlio aonnt ap proaches," said the bride. "1 |wm I'm the most excited person In town nt thin minute." "Oh, I don't know," replied Mrs. Nuriteh. her mother, "fhlnk how excited they must tie over it fn th« newspaper offices." —<'ntholt* Standard and Times. Kiraanlilr Anilrfy. "And what did she say?" "She said she'd wild me h#r answer some time to-da.v." "Of course, you are anxious?" "I should say I was. If she doesn't accept me there's another girl I want to i>ro|toso to—and xhe starts tow Kn rope to-morrow." ■— Cleveland Plain Dealer. Heparin In n Lntrrt' Jack (during their ipiarral)—New, let me explain. May—l want to xa.v something first. Jack —All right. I'm all mm. May—l know It. No rfouM that's why your parent* called yon ".far" — Philadelphia Tress. A man overtakes new nays for ■pending money every day, and ahont oftce a month a new way for saving it overtakes lilm. It Is impossible for the average man to account for his neighbor's Sin-cess.