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IS the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
Ah, the sounds that are blown
In the freaks of the breeze,
By the spirit that sends
The voice of far friends
With the ,sight of.the seas
In the night!
.I the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
Ah, the ghosts that make moan
From the days that are sped;
The old dreams, the old deeds,
The old wound that still bleeds,
And the face of the dead
In the night!
In the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
With the grass and the stone
O'er thy chamber so deep,
Ah, the silence at last,
Life's dissononce past,
And the only pure sleep
In the night!
Violets ad Chocolates
By Paul Cheswick.
IT was not chance alone that
brought Kennaby to Clapham on the
afternoon in question. Four o'clock
saw Kennaby finished for the day.
He had memory of afternoons, simi
lar in atmospheric texture to this one,
that were now many years agone.
Five or six-nay, seven-years had
passed by since then.
Along this south side he had walk
ed then to meet Someone-how often?
Brushed up, happy, shyly excited
with his coat fastened tightly over a
light heart, a bunch of violets in his
buttonhole, a paper bag of chocolates
in his pocket.
Seven years since, eh? Well, we
grow older and grow no worse!
Past and done with? Possibly
like so many other happy memories.
Someone had been too afraid to marry
a poor man.
"We mightn't have been happy to
gether after all. Probably quite the
reverse," he mused.
With a bunch of violets in his coat
and chocolates in his pocket-how
He smiled to himself even more as
a faint perfume reminded him that
old Kingdone had insisted on giving
him a bunch of glass-house violets.
Kennaby decided that he now only
needed the chocolates. "Upon my
word," thought he, "I'll get them. It's
good to be young again after all these
HIe turned toward a shop on his left
hand. The shopman was busy with
a customer, a girl neatly dressed and
clearly in no hurry to be gone. "I
want some of that especial cake," she
was saying. She glanced swiftly at
Kennaby, then her face was hidden
from him altogether. "Some of that
wedding kind of cake, you know," she
went on explaining.
"We only make it at Christmas,
madam," answered the man.
"Must I wait until Christmas for
it, then?" asked the girl, in a droll
voice. She gave a little half-vexed
laugh, and Kennaby felt his heart
stand suddenly still. In an instant
of time seven years slipped off his
"Well, of courses if you haven't
any," she went on, "I shall have to
possess my soul in patience."
Kennaby opened the glass door in a
dazed sort of way.
"Thank you," she said prettily.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"Oh, yes. Chocolates, please; a
pound of them. The best. Do you
know that lady?" he asked.
"You'll excuse me, sir."
It's Miss Greenslade, is it not?"
The man vouchsafed no direct ans
Which way had she gone? In olden
days the Greenslades had lived In
Hartington road. It was just pos
sible that they lived there still.
The old houses had given place to
new ones. Dozens of them; all
Why hadn't he spoken at once?
Then he smiled again. Once, when
they had quarrelled, he had been left
just like this, with his violets and
chocolates, and his anger.
So he striiled back to the Common
and along the south side Clapham
ward, smiling often. "I'll give the
chocolates to the first child I meet,"
he concluded; "but the violets I'll
Some one from behind passed him
with an oblique glance; he seized her 1
by the arm, with headlong words.
"You did startle me!" she cried.
"Fancy it being truly you! Yes, I
thought I saw you in the shop. . .
You've not altered a bit"
"Nor you. save to look younger and
prettier," he said. "It is good to see
you, after all these years. . . 1
Here are some chocolates for you. I
was going to buy them. . . . It is
good seeing you again."
"The mater will be surprised," said
the girl, laughing and blushing.
"Chocolates? and for me, too!
Thanks, very much. Come along in
to tea with us. We live in a flat near
the station. It's easy for mater, and
better for me."
"Oh, yes; I'm an artist, you know.
or, rather, a sort of an artist."
So they chatted, becoming more at
ease. Kennaby told her his news;
how he had prospered. "I'm awfully
glad," said the girl in her jolly way.
"I have only been contented for
the last ten minutes," said Kennaby,
"only since I met you. . . . That's
really why I came back."
She locked at him again with per
plexed 'eyes, but said nothing. "Yes.
it was in the hope of seeing you, dear,
that I came back."
"You've said that to ever so many
American girls, Douglas, haven't
you?" Her eyes smiled into his.
"No, honestly, I haven't," he pro
tested. "I have simply worked dur
ing these years. You, at the end of
a long, dreary probation. That was
my heart's ambition."
"When did you come back?" she
asked, quietly, almost drily.
"Last Tuesday. You see, I have
lost no time. But I scarcely expected
to find you so soon"
"You speak as if you were disap
pointed!" she cried merrily. "I be
lieve you are. Here we are."
"Lead the way and I'll follow you
to the sky, if need be," cried Ken
As she slipped her latchkey into the
lock his arm went about her. "I do
deserve just one," he pleaded hastily,
and bowed his head to hers.
The girl hesitated and was lost.
"Oh-oh!" she murmured, fighting
him. "I'm paying for the chocolates,
after all! It's too bad of you, Doug
las; you're changed dreadfully-ter
She twisted the key and slipped in
to the passage. "I've a good mind to
shut you out," she cried. Then, re
lenting, stood on one side for him to
"It's all very tiny, you know," she
explained, as he took off his hat and
Kennaby settled himself cosily in
an arm chair beside the fire. He felt
at peace with the world. Well, it had
been worth waiting for this.
The light fell revealingly upon her.
The vision of that dear face which
had been with him so often in dreams
cas now a glad reality. How pretty
she was-how pretty!
He almost bounded out of his seat.
What-what? Her hair was waved
in black, shining masses about her
head. Black as the raven's wing,
black as night itself. "Why, Maude,"
he stammered, "what ever have you
done to your hair?" Dismay #id sus
picion shone in Kennaby's eyes, the
former taking utter possession of
them as the meaning of the girl's re
ply went home to him. "My hair? It's
the same as it has always been. Only,
you know, my name doesn't happen
Kennaby's brain worked laborious
ly. "No," he said, at length, "you're
"Yes, of course. It was only in the
light that I mistook you"
"Then, or now?"
He compromised. "I should have
known you at once, only"
"Only you didn't. I quite under
"Any way," retorted Kennaby, "you
must admit that I was very glad to
"You were." she assented roguish
ly, "very glad, so long as I was
Maude. I shall eat her chocolates
just to spite you."
"I really bought them for you, after
all," he argued. "It was you I saw
in the shop trying to buy impossible
The girl laughed again, and at mem-.
ory of his kisses burned. "It's not
very nice of you, Douglass, for all
that, to have forgotten mne so entire
ly. . . . Maude used always to
give me your violets. It was only the
chocolates that she kept."
He smiled at this. "I was a bit
young in those days"
"You were rather nice, I thought,"
she told him.
She was gone ere she had finished;
her last word coming to him from the
darkness of the passage. Kennaby
called after her. "Don't be long, Ma
rie; I have a heap to say to you."
Somehow that comfortable feeling
which had been his today ever since
he had had speech with Maude's little
grown up sister, remained with him.
Suppose-suppose Maude to be mar
ried. Such a thing might have hap
pened. She was pretty enough, and
charming enough-although she had
never written him a line since the en
gagement had been broken off-by
herself. His notion of coming back
wealthy in order to marry her had
been quite Kennaby's own.
He got up to examine a row of por
traits on the mantlepiece.
Here was little Marie. How could
he have mistaken her for Maude?
Here was 'Maude; handsome, dis
dainful-decided. Yes, that was
Maude . . . bless her!
But now he perceived another pic
I re-that of two, small, chubby
youths, hand in hand, with sturdy
legs and resolute eyes.
Maude's eyes. . Kennaby knew
them too well.
"That's Roger," said a voice beiin4
him, "and the other is-Douglas.
"So Mande is married," said Ken
naby, slowly and evenly stating a
"Yes-the same year that you went.
Didn't you really know?"
His eyes held Marie's in her refles
tion in the overmantel as he put back
Maude's picture. "I hope that she has
had-and may continue to have--ll
the happiness that I hope to find,"
said Kennaby, enigmatically.
But Marie blushed, while her laslres
hid all that might have been in her
TWENTY ACRES OF CARNATIONS
Average Yield Is From 6,000 to 10,000
Flowers Every Day in the Year.
Commercial carnation growing in
the northern, middle west and east
ern parts of this great country of
ours has been a problem in econom
ics. Outdoor growing in the sections
named is always confined to limited
times, or rather seasons, and so much
of it has necessitated hothouse ad
juncts that theories vanished before
the attacks of conditions. The flower
is one that has always been popular,
and has bene cultured and specialized
to almost a perfec:.ln, but never
commercially satisfaciory, excepting
to the interested grower whose ef
forts became remunerative upon the
extreme demand and limlited supply.
To the stranger within the gates
of this State, the carnati'n growing
of California becomes an object of
the greatest interest and a most sat
isfactory sight. The succese of th'e
enterprise and the very simnDle and
effective style of cultivation make it I
another marvel in this land of natural
When E. J. Vawter retired from
the active life of a banker he maught t
recreation in ranching. Part of the t
land in the confines of Santa Monica,
the particular secttot of this city
claiming title as Ocean. Park, he ex
perimented with, five years ago, for
a more remunerative cnrp that that a
of barley. A tract of about two acres t
was planted with pure California I
seeding carnation plants. Sine. then '
the acreage has increased to twenty,
and at the close of the planting work t
this season the ranch will have 200,- 1,
000 plants in active growth. Ulti
mately the most of a 200-acre ranch
will be devoted to the culture of this
In brief, the carnation fields are
yielding on an average from 6,000 to
10,000 flowers every day in the year,
with a market in which the demand
is at all times greater than the sup
ply. The plants are perpetuat2"g in
a sense, are propagated in the open
fields, cultivated with less labor than
ordinary crops, and are exempt from
insect pests and but rarely trCOUbled
with disease, excepting ordinary fun.
The avewage life of a field carna
tion varies from two to three pears.
New plants are taken in cutings
from the o14 one and put directly
into the ground. They take root in
about four weeks, and in about ten
months are in bloom and continue
to give their daily quota of blos
soms until they die out. In planting
the carnalons are placed in lws
three feet apart and the plants two
feet from each other. This permits
the cultivation with horses, and after
once in healthy. growth they require
only watchfulness for disease and in
sect pests, Irrigatton about evfry
two weeks and daily picking.- t"os
The Mystery of a Brigand's Heed.
From Sicily comes a ghastly story
reminiscent of the Middle Ages. A
man's head in an advanced state of
decomposition was found impaled on
a post outside the walls of Palermo.
Attached to the post was a card bear
ing the words: "This is the head oC
the infamous brigand Varsalona."
This curious discovery was made on
the property of a certain Paron Ani
ello, who took a prominenrt part" in
the trial of the notolious Varsalona
for murder, and offer.d a large re
ward for his capture.
When the daughters of the brigand
were confronted with the head one
declared it was that of her father,
but the other denied it. The brigand's
sweetheart, however, recognized the
head by the filling in a front tooth.
Great excitement prevailed rn
Sicily as the result of this strange
occurrence. The inhabitants in the
neighborhood divided into two par
ties, one believing in the death of
the famous bandit and the other de
claring the event to be merely an
other trick to make the police believe
that he was dead in order that he
might continue to rob undisturbed.
London Daily Mail.
The London Crystal Palace accom
modates more people than any o:her
building in the world. It will hold
The center of the country's cotton
growing is near Jackson. MiLsa.
The Rain Rains Every Day.
.faid the robin to his mate
In the dripping orchard tree:
"Our dear nest will have to war
Till the blue sla we can see.
Birds can neither work nor play,
For the rain rains every day.
And the rain rains all the day!'
Said the violet to the leaf:
"I can scarcely ope my eye;
V o, for fear I'll come to grief,
Close along the earth I lie.
All we flowers for sunshine pray
But the rain rains all the day!
And the rain rains all the'day!"
And the children far and wide.
They, too, wished away the rain;
All their sports were spoiled outside
By the "black glove 'at the pane
Very dull indoo~s to stay
While "the rain rains every day,
'And the.rainrains all the day!"
Up had down the murmurs run,
Shared by child and bird and flower.
Suddenly the golden sun
Dazzled through a clearing shower.
Then they all forgot to say
That "the rain rains every day.
And the rain rains all the day!"
-Edith M. Thomas, in St. Nicholas.
Kari, the Arctic Dog.
Captain Sverdrup, the arctic explor
er, tells how one of his dogs, named
Karl, fell ill during an expedition,
even losing her appetite--a thing al
most unheard of in an Eskimo pack.
Karl was not only a good dog, but also
a wise one, and therefore she knew
what to do. She curled herself round
in a ball and law down close by one
of her comrades, between his legs
where she would be sheltered as well
as wArm. This, 'however, was not at
all to the mind of the dog in question,
and he was ungallant enough to get
up and change his place.
"But Karl was equal to this diffi
cult situation. She took her allow
ance, went up to the dog in question
and put it down belore his nose, as
mUch as to say, 'Here, this is for you;
now do be kind and let me lie quiet!'
Then she licked his face in a coaxing
way and curled herself round again in
her old place. This time she was real
ly allowed to remain in peace."
A Queer Flag.
The rest of the camping party were
farther down the stream, but Grace
and Baby, who had been picking dais
ies in the field, had wandered farther
off than they thought.
"We'll carry back lots of 'em, Baby,
so Mother can have her whole tent
trimmed with flowers," said Grace.
"'Es," answered Baby; nodding his
round head, just as he always did to
everything his sister said.
So Grace's pink sunbonnet moved
steadily on, and Baby's little feet trot
ted. bravely after it. The daisies near
the path had been small, but farther'
back they grew larger and finer and
the children pressed on through the
tall grass until their hands were full.
"Oh," said Grace, "'it's higher than
our heads here! But we have flowers
enough, and I guess we'll go back
"'Es," answered Baby, cheerfully.
But roing back was not so easy, for
Grace could not see the path-could
not even see the tops of the tents.
She walked a little way, but the grass
grew only taller, and she could not
find the way out. If they could not
see the tents, the people in the tents
could riot see them either, she thought,
and for a minute she wanted to cry.
But Baby was looking right up in her
face, and it does not do for a little girl
to cry whed she has a baby brother
to take care of.
She could not see anything but the
tall grass around her, but when she
looked up there was the clear blue sky
overhead, and she knew that God could
see her even if Mother could not.
Then a thought came to her, and he
"I know what to do. I'll put my
pink sunbonnet on a stick and hold it
up high, and they'll see that."
Bure enough, the waving pink sun
bonnet was soon seen, and father came
laughing tonugh the grass and car
ried Baby salely out on his shoulder,
with Grace marching after him and
waving her sunbonnet flag.-Ruth
Cady in The Sunbeam.
A Pour-Leaved Clover Party.
A children's party if not a complete
success is the most dismal of failures
and to have it complete from a child's
standpoint the parent must not elim
inate entirely the romping element.
Young animals of all kinds love to
frisk, and the human animal cannot
have a thoroughly satisfactory time at
a gathering of his own age and spe
cies unless he is to a certoin extent
untrammeled by the conventionalities.
A four-leaved clover party has in it i
the outdoor element dear to the child.
Children are Nature-lovers, and revel
in anything that gives them the liber
ty of green grass and open air. Dur
I* e the summer months an outdoor
iarty is really leas troub .
an indoor one, and there is
with it a sense of freedom
spires its success from the
Even if yOp have not .
grounds about the house the
party is still practiable l
smallest bit of lawn tfi efo
be found. If you aWse
to have a broad lawn or d~
disposal, so much the better.
Notiy the children befor
they must wear Clothes that ret
be injured by grass stains,
will sit or kneel op the grass
Have the color-scheme oft-is
crimson and green. On the
or on the lawn near the ho -
Uwe table of refreshments sýsa,
i'e centre may be a huge bw
c.imson clovers with their
leaves. All dishes may be d
wi t thmesame fowern, an a
the same tied with crimson sa
ribbons is pinned on the frock to
little girl, while every boy has
tonniere of a single fine blossao
Provide pretty baskets, each. _.
handle decozated with a bo f a
son or green ribboa. It o a e
lent plan to have the ribbona a
girls' baskets crimson and therib
on the boys' baskets green. Wb 4
the little ones are assemblsed, iwe
each a basket, explaining that ti.
for holding the four-leaved e
gathered, and that the child -
the greatest number of these ei_
is to have a prize. Then tnra.. i
tie ones out on the grass, sad g
tbam at least an hour for the 'se-t
Provide for the first prize t
girls a tiny silver or gold pin ti
shape of the lucky leaf. The
prize may be a pretty pin or jewel
of china ip the same design. tim
boys have a clover-leaf scarf i
first prize, and as second prize a
er-shaped pocket pincushion. I
girls' booby prize' may be a negro 4
dressed in crimson and green, sadl
booby prize for the boys can be t
horseshoe wound with clover and
ing at the top a bow of the same
It would be well for the parent
the child giving the party, or la
other grown person to make as oa
sional visit to the scene of the clk
leaf search, to speak an oceadog
word of encouragement to the sale
tunate and to see that there ois 1
play. There seems to be a smt /
trickery in the so-cllled rsage quaoe
foll, by which it hides itself from sae
persons and cheerfully revealgitsel t
others. Among children the sembS
luck of one and the inability of .aul
er to find the hidden treasure I
give rise to discussions that may sa
in tears or hard feelings unales a
older person is present to cha.ge the
current of dispute or feeling.
When the time allotted for the
search - is .t an end, the chlldr
should sit in a. row while soms aO
counts the number of leaves is 404
basket, writing the name of .4
searcher and the number of q 'i5
foils that he or she hassecured.
comes the distribution of prizes,
which the little ones may sit upon
grass and the refreshments pamed
them. If there 13 any fear of the
being too damp for this. to',be i
little tables may be placed about .
lawn. While this is more trouble
the first plan suggested, it is uif
comfortable for the children aad a
prettier arrangement. Upon each
ble stands a little vase of cloyv
soms. The paper napkins are pl..
crimson and white. At one
party white paper napkins had a
sign of a clover painted upon oma
Befreshiments may be
cut cloer-leaf In shape, and
white ices and pink-and-white,
cakes, with lemonade. On the
face of each glass of the beveragl
be laid a large crimson clove
-Virginia Van de Water in W
The "Jumping Prog" 56e"
This is how Mark Twain as
write his "Jumping Fro tr:
had reached San Fratcseo ba,
vada'Cityjr.'wkemhe ~ had bIe
foundly interested in brandWa~V
-a jumping ' contest AWetaw
frogs. The trainers of the frlP
crowd of mineas and caB
formed the audienle. Mwhi
had joined. Later, meetin a
friends in the San .ria0e
among whom were R wa
W. Howard and Bret 1 ie
told them about the strange
had witnessed, and the reitl se 0
vulsed his hearers that Bet
told him to write it had it would
one of the best funny storl.
world. The sequel proved B1et
to be right. It was published 1
Golden Era, and at once madd
The First Essantlal.
Betty-So Maud is engaged?
I'm sorry for the man. She
know . the first thing about k
Bessie-Oh, yes, she does.
Betty-I'd like to know twh
Bessie-The first thing is 10
man to keep hous: for.--H51r'ps