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Blackfoot news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1891-1902, May 22, 1901, Image 3

Image and text provided by Idaho State Historical Society

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn88056017/1901-05-22/ed-1/seq-3/

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T1IK WKKT.
I listen to the rumble and rattle of the
rail
And to my ears unfolded the world's
most wondrous tale; %
The prairie tamed and broken; the for
est split In two;
The lake and ocean blended; the moun
tain shivered throuah;
The chasm knit with Iron; the cataract
swung back;
Both Time and Distança shrunken with
every foot of track.
The tramp of millions westward la echoed
from the wheel;
The strain of millions striving sensations
new to feci;
New cities planned at twilight, perfected
with the dawn;
Our Nation's might replenished by weit
em brain and brawn.
The fruits are, aye! most luscious; tbs
flowers fairest bloom;
The men are best ami bravest, and there
Is least of gloom
Where sets the Blar of Empire, where
Hun of Progress dips.
And burnishes the wheat tleldji and gilds
the groaning ships.
-F. A. Murray.
A Local Affair.
3Y GUY A. JAMIESON.
(Copyright, 1MI. by Dally Story Pub. Co.)
Th« little atgu screaked monoton
ously as It swayed hack and forth
In the wind. In fact, it was the only
sign of animation for two blocks, bar
a rival sign across the street that
screaked and swayed just as vebe
meutly. and bo as little purpose. The
sign In question Informed the public,
or would have, bad there been
a public, that John D. Marberry was
an attorney and real estate agent, and
that be had a choice lot of residence,
business, farm and ranch property tor
aale or rent on easy terms. The tru.u
Is. the town of Archer was for sale or
rent on easy terms; and the few fami
lies, who had not already leu tor a leas
-droutby country, remained from neces
sity more tbsn choice.
John D. Marberry. who had rome
West to grow up with the country,
was, at the very time of which 1 write.
sluing In a smalt, hot, dusty office be
heath the screaking sign, gaxtng ab
atractedly up the deserted street, out
to the interminable stretch of parched
prairie. When be located In Archer
it was on a "boom"; Immigration waa
pouring Into'the county, the Retta
and Taw R, R. bad been surveyed to
the town, and everything indicated
an era of development and prosperity.
But, for some reason, not known to
th« public, the road was not built;
and short crops and two years of
drouth had caused, to use an expres
sion usually applied to auch condl
tlona, the whole bottom to drop out.
John D. Marberry'« tbougbla were
not as abstract as his appearance. In
fact, they had a very practical trend.
ile was thinking seriously of selling
out,—lock, stock and barrel, ff such an
expression Is applicable to the taw
and real estate business,—and moving
back East, lie bad made a bad ven
tore, be bad been disappointed, be
was heartily tired of the dry monot
on y of things. The West held but one
attraction for him—and but for said
attraction this story would not have
been written. He bad met Miss Ola
Mann, and that meant that he had
fallen under tbe spell of her charming
personality. Miss Ola was tbe daugb
1 er of a rich old rancher, who num
bered his acres and cattle by tbe
thousands. In the active out-door life
she had led abe bad developed Into a
auperb specimen of the western worn
an—she was beautiful, cultured.
wealthy. Therein lay tbe perplexity
of the case. Marberry felt himself a
man of parts, that be had a future,
but, for tbe present, he was stranded.
He had often thought over the matter
as he tossed restlessly nights, and as
he sat dejected in the atuffy little of
flee watching the dust drift down the
deserted street. To presumptuously,
boldly speak big mind and put an end
■ to the consuming uncertainly, or
■ move East, establish himself, and
I write—that was the question. Once,
■ as be returned from a Fourth of July
B celebration, where he, as the orator
B of the occasion, had covered himself
B with glory, be had been on the point
"Mann has made an assignment."
of an avowal of his love, but Miss Ola
had seemed to parry his words, and
being proud, sensitive, ho had
mained silent.
But, now. hla mind was made up.
He Jerked his chair to the desk and
began to prepare an Inventory of his
office fixtures, books, etc. The work
completed, he walked across the street
to the rival sign, Taylor, the owner,
had Invested pretty heavily in real
«Btate and would likely remain, as
; there waa no prospect of his disposing
I of It for some years. He could sell
his plunder to him; If not, why, he
would take It with him.
Taylor was looking over the last
j Issue of the Archer Star, a copy he
Iliad taken from the press, strictly
[against the rules of the office, only
■ten minutes before.
I "Well, I guess, the worst hoahap
Ipenwd," he began, looking up from
re
th# paper and motioning Marberry to
a chair.
"What Is It?" asked Marberry.
"Mann has made an assignment."
"Can't be true."
"That's wbat the paper says."
Marberry folded the Inventory
slowly and pushed it Into his pocket.
He walked over to the Star office
and talked to Tooly. On bis depart
ure he took a paper from the mailing
desk, then went to the postofflce and
got another out of his box. Prof.
Uennet was reading the Star to a
crowd of six. The "assignment" was
the locul of interest. Another item,
Marberry had overlooked, was also re
ceiving its share of comment. Miss
Ola Mann had secured- a position in
the Archer Bchool. Prof. Benaet tes
tified to the truth of the last bit of
news.
John D. Marberry walked across the
street with a new buoyancy In his step,
tearing the Inventory Into bits and
I
is
in
in
a
a
■y
-r\v
I
"I have something to say. Mias Olga." (
casting It on the hot wind. He en- !
tered his office and took down the
duster that had been taking a pro
tracted rest. Every book and piece of
furniture was gone over carefully and
re-arranged. When he sat down to
bis desk again there w&g a tidy and
prosperous appearance about the room
that It had not worn since the days of
the railroad boom. John D. Marberry
bad finally determined that the fate of
Archer should be bis fate—sink or
swim, survive or perish—he would
remain in Archer.
He went Industriously to work on
an abstract of the county, an under
taking be had given up some weeks
before from sheer discouragement.
He waa still writing when a buggy
rolled up to the door. He looked up,
surprised at the Interruption. Miss
Ola greeted him cordially. He has
tened out to assist her from tbe buggy,
if her father's financial embarrass
ment weighed heavily on her mind,
she was successful. Indeed, in conceal
ing It. She waa the same freah, sen
sible, charming Miss Ola.
"1 have Just read the Star, Miss
Ola," began Marberry, when they were
seated. "You'll pardon me for rcler
rlng to It, and allow me-"
"Excuse me," broke In Miss Ola;
"but please do not mention It. There's
nothing to be sorry for—we still have
the home place and. you know, I have
secured a position In the acbool. After
all. what Is a little more or less prop
erty? Here are aome papers father
told me to hand to you. He wishes
you to look over them." She rose to
go. Marberry rose also.
"I have something to say to you.
Miss Ols," he began, stepping nearer;
"something 1 would have said before
this had It not been for certain cir
cumstance:! and which, but for certain
other circumstances, I would not say
now."
Mias Ola resumed her seat.
"1 desire you to know, Miss Ola." hé
continued hesitatingly; "that—I love
you."
Mias Ola's eyes were on the floor,
roses came and went on her cheeks.
Then, she looked up sweetly and said:
"I'm sure, Mr. Marberry, I'm not dis
pleased."
Not a single client dropped in to
Interrupt the conversation that fol
lowed. But then, if there had been
clients In Archer It would not have
happened just as It did.
The rival sign across the street was
still screaking and flapping fruitlessly
when Marberry and his visitor stepped
Into the buggy and rolled off.
Taylor eyed them critically over the
corner of his paper. There was some
thing telltale about his rival that
caused hu thoughts*to go wandering
back to a sunny day—now burled,
with many other bright things, in the
past—when he had entered the land
Wi.ere Love Is king.
'■There'll soon be another local In
the Star," He mused, and his thoughts
drifted back to silent streets, scorched
prairie, and had Investmente.
A few months later there was a quiet
wedding out at Mann's Ranch. Tooly,
of the Star, was best man. Taylor
congratulated his rival heartily. Mar
berry—well, Marberry—waa happy.
Archer Is no longer a deserted Til
lage, but a thriving western metropo
lis. The screaking sign that napped
above Marberry'a office has long since
ceased to screak. Marberry occupies
elegant rooms above Mann and Mar
berry's bank. Those who write him
use the prefix "Hon."
as
he
he
KnglUh #ow>r.lgn an Unpopular Coin.
The sovereign has never been a pop
ular coin In India. Among the wealth
ier natives who have not yet learned
to trust the yellow metal as currency,
the idea of turning a sovereign into or
naments, such as earrings and brooch
es, has recently become a fad.
Memphis, Tenn., Is taking no little
pride In her distinction of being the
mule metropolis of the south. Some
one, referring to this flourishing and
wealthy city, says "there It is a jme
of banka and brays."
I Spurred to
Success I
% BY LOSING HIS HANDS AND
FEET.
he
to
That a man need have neither hands
nor feet to be a success In the world
is shown by the career of Michael Jo
seph Dowling, speaker of the Minne
sota bouse of representatives. A ter
rible experience in a blizzard when a
boy brought out the latent possibilities
in the youth as nothing else that could
happefl to him might have done. Forty
yearB ago Dowling was bom In Yel
low Medicine county. Minnesota, the
son of a poor farmer. Early In De
cember. 1880, as Is told by a writer
in the St. Louis Republic, a hard bliz
zard set In in Yellow Medicine county,
and in a short time provisions were
low. It was unsafe to venture out of
doors, and every effort was made to
make the food In the Dowling family
last until the blizzard should have
spent Its fury. But the blizzard lasted
for an unusually long period, and it
became necessary to get more food or
starve. The elder Dowling was 111,
and the young man started on foot
for the village, three miles distant, to
get provisions. He reached the village
grocery store with less difficulty than
he had expected, and was soon on his
return laden with flour, meal and other
stores. He soon found that the trip
homeward was not as easy as the first
half of his Journey, but he plodded j
on with head down to protect his face
from the blasts of wind and snow. !
a
He became
With
After hours of aimless
Suddenly he discovered that he was
off the road. He tried to find it. but
wag unsuccessful. The wind waa get
ting colder and colder,
more and more bewildered,
dogged determination he trudged on
and on holding his precious bundles
of food nearer to him. In the storm
he could not find a single familiar
landmark,
wandering night fell, and the farmer's
son was still struggling through the
snow.
The next rooming dawned bright
and clear. The blizzard had passed
on toward the Great Lakes. Dowling
found himself within a hundred yards
of his own home. . But he could not
walk further, and nis voice could not
be heard five feet away. He sank down
exhausted, almost within reach of bit
home and gave up all hope of reach
ing It But his mother saw him tall
I An Illuminat
ing Mineral
OF
§ ONLY SUBSTANCE
» THE KIND IN THE
® WORLD DISCOVERED
s IN IDAHO
A mineral possessing Illuminating
power has been discovered in Idaho,
The people of Boise City are very
much excited over the event. Assay- i
, . . ,,
1st» have been unable, as yet. to de
termine what the strange substance i
The dUcoverey was made > ;
George F. Ayres, a well known mining
man of Boise, several weeks ago, In
of his claims, about sixty mites
At the time he, did
to.
one
from the city. ,
not think much of the matter and
therefore paid no attention to it. The
further he went Into the mine, how
ever, the brighter the light became,
until, aftr a few feet had been worked,
It waa not necessary for him to use a
lamp. It was then that he took some
of the mineral to Boise, and had It ex
amlned by an asaayer.
Terry L. Wtlllams of Boise, who is
Interested with Mr. Ayres, was in Ta
coma, Wash., recently, and had a piece
of the mineral with him. He will have
assay of it made and expects that
Its true worth will be determined.
"So far wo have not been able to find
any person who Is able to tell what
kind of a mineral It Is," he said, when
exhibiting It, "and it is for that pur
pose I have brought it here. There Is a
large body of It at the mine where this
was taken out about sixty miles from
Boise City. Mr. Ayres, owner of the
mine, found It four weeks ago at a
depth of 300 feet from the surface. He
was running a cross cut tunnel to tap
his ledge at this depth, when he struck
this deposit. At first It attracted his
attention by giving forth a dull light.
As he worked further In the light be
came brighter, and at the end of three
ONE OF EVÄRTS' JOKES
The late Secretary Evarts liked fun,
and there was a dry wit in his public
utterances at times that nearly con
vulsed those who clearly understood
his meaning. It was almost Impossible
for him to avoid being deep, even in
humor, and many a good fling at po
litical opponents was lost because he
talked above the heads of his audience,
or becaues his sentences were too in
volved. At the time when the mug
wumps were Just beginning to show
their teeth, he delivered one of his
long political speeches from the stage
of the Grand opera house. New York,
Weighing Food for Cattle.
The accepted manner of feeding Is
by measure, although all grain food
for cattle Is sold by weight, a given
number of pounds constituting a bush
el. This being the case, and because
of the great difference in the feeding
value of the different ground feeds, all
feeding should be done by weight ra
ther than by the -bushel. The aver
age farmer will claim he can got bet
ter results fro» coarse floury mid
dlings and corn meal than from wheat
bran and gluten meal, which Is so
strongly advocated, but does he? Cer
and came to hir, aid. With her help
he reached the house. It was found
that his face, hands, feet and legs
were badly frozen. A doctor was
summoned and declared it was neces
sary to amputate the boy's hands and
legs. This was done, and barely twen
ty-four hours after he hail left home
to go to town he was a helpless crip
ple. One leg was amputated above the
knee, the other above the ankle, his
left arm at the elbow and all the fin
gers of the right hand. When the
doctors left all that remained of the
boy's ten fingers and ten toes was the
stump of one thumb amputated at the
second Joint.
Dowling's father was a poor man
and to the young man no future was
apparent but a useless existence, a
burden and an eyesore to all about him.
But worse was In store for him. Ha
soon became a public charge. Thé
three commissioners of Yellow Medi
cine met to decide as to his fate. The
close-fisted commissioners made him
sign an agreement not to return to
Yellow Medicine county after being
supplied with artificial limbs and a
year's schooling. They congratulated
themselves for thus saving the county |
the expense of caring for a helpless j
cripple indefinitely. But Dowling was )
j determined and ainblt'chs. He got a
good education, became an adept on
! artificial limbs, returned to Renville,
a county adjoining the one from
which he had been banished, was elect
ed to a small local public office, work
ed into the ownership of a weekly
newspaper, then appeared In the ses
sions of the state elgisalture as a clerk
and next became secretary of a nation
al political organization, being nomi
nated to that position as the "Frozen
Son of Minnesota." He secured recog
nition as a man of executive ability
and a good campaigner. He was next
heard of as a newspaper correspondent
In the Philippines. Returning from
the Philippines Dowling reached th«
United States in time to attend the
national convention at Philadelphia
His peaked Philippine hat was one oi
the sights of the convention. Latel
he became a candidate for the legis
lature, won easily, and immediately an
nounced his candidacy for the speak
ership.
days' work he was able to go ahead
without the aid of a lamp. Then th«
mineral became a curiosity and some
i of " was taken to Boise. It was ex
amlned. but there has been no one who
^ t<} uH what , t lg
i „ Mr Ajreg ^ a plece of it t0 hlg
; ca ^j n an( i a fter night tried to make it
s j)ow a light, but it was not so bright
^ had been In the tunnel. This is at
trlbuted to the atmospheric conditions.
and is undoubtedly true, for in the ex
periments that have been made with
It In Boise we have been able to re
produce the atmospheric conditions in
water that prevail where the mineral
| a found, and therefore It is not
thought that we will have any trouble
in getting the desired result,
"So far as we have been able to
learn, this is the first of the mineral
ever found In the world. AH assayers
to whom we have shown It say they
never heard of it before, and they are
not able to tell what It Is. We will
go ahead and try to put It to some use,
and even at the present time are rea
sonably sure of success. If It does
come out as we expect, the mine will
be more valuable than we ever be
lieved.
"There is a large body of the deposit,
and the farther we go in the stronger
becomes the light. Another thing that
we are convinced of is that, If we can
make It practical, It will be a perpetual
light, for in the throwing off of its rays
there does not appear to be any waste
of the mineral. Since the discovery
there has been a large number of visit
ors to the mine, and the outcome is
being watched by all In the vicinity of
where the deposit was uncovered."
and in the course of It remarked that
he believed the republican party need
not fear the mugwumps as the latter
were a lot of "marsupials." Some 3,500
men heard the word, and after the
meeting groups got together to discuss
the meaning of the word and its ap
plication. Some went home to look at
their dictionaries, while others called
on Mr. Evarts for an explanation.
"Marsupials," said he, "are born ex
tremely small, imperfect and quite
helpless, and have to be carried In
pouches on the bellies of their moth
era."
tatnly not, if he calculates the feeding
value of a given measure and its rich
ness In protein. Eight quarts of mid
dlings and four quarts of corn meal
weigh 14.8 pounds, and furnish 1.5
pounds of digestible protein,
quarts of coarse bran and four quarts
of gluten meal weigh only 8.8 pounds,
but furnish 1.5 pounds of protein, with
a difference in cost In favor of the
latter ration of nearly 8 cents.
Eight
A man can always manage to nttract
attention by either raising whiskers or
having them shaved off.
"but
book
May
ing
ren.
to
Paul
the
talk
She
and
such
too
ruin
self
A STROLLING SING KB.
(By Charlotte Becker.)
"He sang along the woodland paths
When all the world was warm and
gay,
The birds half mocked him overhead.
The shadows cooled his greenllt way.
"The earth was sweet with growing
things,
The vintage promised full and fair;
And one with eyes like larkspur buds.
And garnered sunllglit In her hair,
"Stood watching by the Ilex trees,
A glow, a welcome In her eyes.
He sank, too tired, at her feet
And smiled through wistful little sighs.
" 'Dear love,' he said, T cannot live,
I shall not see the morrow's sun.
But I am fortunate to die
While yet my loving is not done.
conllnen( i a tiou.
| however, the critics felt bound to pa
j troalM £ 0 th It and its writer In their
) »- ugtomary pa t e rnal fashion, and while
" 'And weep no foolish tears for me,
gold are
But when the vines with
hung—
Think, "Life was very good to him,
and loved, and
For he had lived,
sung." ' "
—Alnslee's Magazine.
A Coincidence and a Recon
sideration.
BY J. P. COUGHLIN.
(Copyright, 1S0J, by Dally Story Pub. Co.)
Paul Westover had every reason to
congratulate himself upon the success
of his new book. The public received
it with gratifying approval, and the
critics bestowed upon It well-tempered
Being a first-born.
lauding Its other excellent qualities
they pointed out and dwelt Upon the
un-reallstic improbabilities of the
main incidents In which Mr. West
over's heroine was centered.
That this should be so was only
natural; Mr. Westover was ridicu
lously young to know anything of the
Impenetrable feminine, and yet he had
dared to make "Gertrude Warner" the
story of a woman's life, a story of
many strange phases, and of curious
though Incorrect, said the reviewers,
insights into tbe workings of a young
girl's mind.
Westover was almost on tbe point
of accepting the critic's dictum. He
had fancied that his portrayal of Ger
trude Warner was well and clearly Im
agined, but after all what could he, a
bachelor and impressionable, know of
women. The reviewers must be right.
Gertrude Warner was falsely drawn.
But there was at least one person
who did not think with the reviewers.
The newly-fledged author received in
his mail from his publishers a long
letter that was truly startling to his
self possession. Its full length may
not be given here but its gist is con
tained in a couple of paragraphs.
"You are evidently very Intimately
acquainted with the story of the dark
est passages In my life, but surely it
was unnecessary that the details
should be made public so faithfully
and so callously. 1 would like to think
that your story was purely a coinci
dence' and evolved entirely from your
own Imagination, but tbe details up to
the denouement, in every particular,
are so carefully true to fact that I
have no other course than to believe
that some unworthy recipient of my
confidence has in an Idle moment be
trayed my unhappy history.
"Doubtless you will admit that I
have at least the right of asking an
explanation, the more especially, see
ing that you have even given to your
novel a title so like the name borne
to
a
by her who asks it.
"GERMYN WARREN."
Westover finished the reading of this
letter with a rue expression,
whistled softly to himself and looked
blankly at the wall in an endeavor to
collect his thoughts and adequately
consider the situation presented to
him. In a moment the humorous as
pect of the affair dawned upon him and
he laughed quizzically.
"One of the delights of novel-writ
ing." he murmured aloud; "is to run
across some hysterical woman who
finds your book a mirror of her past
He
is
of
I
K'
I
[\]
I
;
at
In
Uj
A startling letter.
If I am expected to reply to all such
my hands will be full. Yet what a
splendid answer to the critics.
His better and more sympathetic
nature, however, for as yet he was not
experienced enough to be callous, as
serted Itself, and he penned a duly
consolatory letter to Miss Germyn
Warren.
A week later Paul Westover had an
encounter that caused him consider
able embarrassment.
"Mr. Westover, our youngeRt nov
elist, Miss Warren."
Tha serenity and self-contalnedness
of the frail pretty girl before him waa
In striking contrast to the blushing
stammering awkwardness of the young
author. The clear blue eyes, however,
put him at his ease quickly and he
found himself lost In amazement at
how different the girl before him was
from the morbid woman with a past
he had pictured her.
"Your letter—I suppose I may speak
of It—was very klud," her voice broke
or
musically In upon his semi-absorptlu^
"but there are some things In your''
book I vould like to talk to you about.
May I?"
Westover found himself In a quiet
corner of the drawing room, anticipat
ing a quarter of an hour'« stern cross
examination at the hands of Miss War
ren. Somehow the ordeal did not seem
to be so terrible as it would have
seemed two days previously.
Sitting in his armchair that night
Paul Westover meditatively addressed
the smoke-clouds from his cigar.
"She is wonderfully pretty—she has
exquisitely sweet eyes and what a
charming talker, even though we did
talk only of the serious things of life.
She Is indeed an ideal heroine—in real
life."
Westover pulled himself up abruptly
and laughed a quick, nervous laugh.
"Come, this won't do—contemplating
such a thing already is making haste
too quickly—but that's absurd. Why
before I Jtnow it I'll be thinking of
marriage. And marriage would be the
ruin of a young writer. It would—"
But then Westover repeated to him
self all the familiar arguments against
« '
m
A WL/'z
w
JSf/j
\
w
i
l
w - )\\\
'
. »
"Yes, everything Mr. Westover has
written."
matrimony until finally he went to bed
convinced if not exactly pleased.
His encounter with Miss Germyn
Warren, and the train of thought it
prompted may have had something to
do with Mr. Westover's departure for
the west, but the literary journals an
nounced his trip as taken for the pur
pose of acquiring local color for »
new novel.
During the two yeara that followed
Paul Westover's literary output served
to increase considerably his growing
reputation. He returned to New York
and prepared to settle down comfort
ably to meet the demands made upon
him by his publishers. The novel, to
prepare which he left New York, waa
a pronounced success, and though
his old friends, the critics, did not
appear to notice It, Paul himself was
conscious of a certain resemblance la
type between his new heroine and his
old, that is to say Miss Germyn War
He tried to reason that this new
ren.
heroine was simply but a develop
ment of the Gertrude Warner of his
first book, and thus he tried to dis
pel his lingering fears that he had
drawn upon Miss Warren, his ac
quaintance of a single evening.
Again in his career Mr. Paul West
over had an encounter which caused
him to become as discomposed and
nervous as he had been at his first
meeting with the coincidental heroine
of his first book.
It was at a literary receDtion.
"Permit me, Miss Warren, to Intro
duce to you Mr. Paul Westover —you
have, no doubt read his clever books."
"Yes, everything Mr. Westover has
written," said Germyn Warren, as sha
extended her hand to Paul, who stood
bowing and blushing like a schoolboy.
Then with a smile of gentle mischief
playing around her lips as they wera
left alone she continued: And I can
not think that Mr. Westover has for
gotten me since some of my friends
would have it I am portrayed rather
faithfully in your most recent novel
and even in several of your magasina
stories."
Westover was plainly surprised at
this frank challenge, and for the sec
ond time in his life he found himself
keenly observing the heroine of his
fiction. He noticed the same clear,
blue eyes and wondered at how close
ly he had remembered them all this
time. He found hlmeelf on terms of
old acquaintanceship with this mag
netic little girl, for she was only a
girl. For a moment until the pre
sumption of the thing struck him he
felt a tinge of regret being taken away
from New York for ao long. How that
evening's reception passed he never
knew. He had a very definite notion
that he had spent by far the greater
part of the evening in the society of
Miss Warren.
That night In the seculsion of hla
chambers, over hla cigar, he came not
unwillingly to the conclusion that aft
er all:
"What Is to be Is to be, and It seems
to me that the fates have ordained
that I should create a heroine for my
self. Either I am In love or am drift
ing relentlessly towards that happy
state of mind. Of course marsjage la
the to-be-expected outcome of love,
and for a young man struggling for
fame and fortune a sympathetic wife
is a great helper, a constant incent
ive—" and thus he proceeded to adapt
his views to the altered state of hla
circumstances.
a
at
"Who Is This TennysonW*
When Tennyson was nearing 60
years of age, and his fame might fair
ly be assumed to be world-wide, Ed
ward Moxon, the publisher, decided t„
approach Gustave Dore and commis
sion him to illustrate the "Idylls of
the King,
ered the proposals, he asked; "Who.
then, la this M. Tennyson?"
After Dore had consld-

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